


The King's Cup

by Pondermoniums



Series: King's Cup [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ancient Greece, Angst, Assault, Childhood Trauma, Demigods, Explicit Sexual Content, Festivals, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Master & Servant, Series, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Song of Achilles therapy, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 64,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pondermoniums/pseuds/Pondermoniums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unseen and unheard, Ganymede moves through the palace of Olympus with the ease and inconspicuousness of a servant, or at least the gods and goddesses of Olympus do well at playing their part. What reasons have they to worry from a lone human amongst immortals?</p><p>Raised in luxury and tasked with keeping Zeus's goblet and plate full of nectar and ambrosia at all times, Ganymede has never wanted for anything under the watchful eyes of Zeus and Athena, never feared even the volatile Ares, trained as he is at being invisible.</p><p>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scars

**Author's Note:**

> For readers who know me, look, I'm coping from _The Song of Achilles._ My eyes are still swollen and I will work on my other fics later.
> 
> For those who are new, I am writing this with the assumption of you all having a previous knowledge of Greek mythology. If anything throws you off, just feel free to ask...or do some light reading yourself. If you ever feel awkward at your family reunions, the Greek gods will make you feel loads better.
> 
> That being said, please remember that most of these characters are gods. Kink shaming is welcome and expected.

“Ganymede. Come here.”

The youth rotated without question, carafe in hand. The gilt vase was nearly the size of him but he lifted it with ease to fill the cup gestured toward him. The clear fluid flushed into a sweet rosé as the god of the sea liked. Ganymede’s bright hazel eyes flicked to the god’s plate, more like a platter of succulent beef and orchids. Savory as he tried to be, his sweet tooth would not go unheeded.

_Tink. Tink._

The queen’s nail chimed against the gold of her cup, beckoning him to the other end of the expansive room. The floor was uneven with tiers of marble and mosaic floors that were cluttered with settees and cushions for gods and companions to lounge on. A trail of vapor coiled in front of Ganymede’s face, smelling of something dark and sweet…he was reminded of something far away, something in his memory that was as wispy and impalpable as the incense vapor tickling his nose—

“Ganymede,” the queen reprimanded mildly. He was yanked from his reverie and turned to the round table beside her. The surface of the table was recessed to form a crater in which thin slices of green and orange melon waited. It only took a moment, but in the seconds it took to replenish her dish, her cup ran dry. The nectar flowed from his carafe, clear turning into a crisp, sour white wine.

Once all cups and chalices were full, Ganymede returned to his place by the wall. Out of the way. He liked to linger near the tall, ornate perches that had been made in the image of laurel branches, where a silver owl was tucked under its speckled wing, as if dusted with snow. The cupbearer would have let her sleep but some movement revealed her to be cleaning her feathers. Carefully reaching up, his fingertips gently pushed between the soft feathers of her breast. The owl hummed loudly at the disturbance, almost like a cat’s purr as those golden orbs locked onto him only to shut halfway as he ruffled the feathers on her chest. The majesty of her horn-like feathers was slightly lost as her head hunched under his roaming fingers—

“Someone’s entranced,” said a velvety voice behind him.

Ganymede startled and rushed into a deep bow. “My lady, Athena, I apologize—”

“Shh, love, it is a relief to see someone tame my special beast,” she hushed. She was tall where her owl was small, deceptively perched atop dangerous talons. The owl nibbled at her fingers, restlessly wiggling on the golden perch. Despite her own silver eyes, they gazed warmly down at him. “How are you, Gany?”

He bowed again. “I am well, my lady. Did the Spartans manage all right?”

“Oh…” she sighed but not out of exhaustion. She ran a hand through her short honey-gold hair, flipping it over to one side as she said, “They’re as lively as ever. One of them had the convenient idea to focus their energies in a tournament instead of waging a useless war. Handy, wasn’t it?”

Ganymede giggled deep in his throat. His eyes crinkled as he grinned, thinking of the goddess lingering in disguise among the warriors while planting ideas in their heads—

Warmth washed over his spine, ripping through his shoulder blades to rest in his heart and back of his skull. His entire body felt as if it was waking up. Turning around, Ganymede looked upon a massive eagle that now occupied one of the perches. His feathers were of hot brown and rust, wings fringed with gold. Athena’s owl hopped close to him to nibble at his wings and breast, grooming him without permission as his head jerked this way and that, seeing everything.

“He calls,” Athena narrated. “You have a different beast to tame.”

Ganymede glanced at her warily, wondering what the king could have been doing to spark his temper. Not daring waste time in asking, he rushed with his carafe to the chamber he had been summoned to. It was more like a terrace since it was open to the sky, but Ganymede’s feet slapped against the stone that had been warmed by Helios’ sun, announcing his entrance.

He bowed so low he rested the carafe on the tops of his bare feet. “My king, how may I serve?”

The reply was so long in coming that Ganymede was aware of the breeze fluttering his almond brown hair. Strong, high arched feet entered his vision, stepping close but he dared not lift his head. The heat in his belly and chest rushed into his cheeks when a hand urged his chin to lift.

“Greet me with your eyes, Ganymede. Let me see you.”

Those fingers brushed his throat, making him feel even more fragile than he already was in the presence of Zeus’s human form. The hair on his tanned legs shimmered gold in the light, which Ganymede had a superb view of since his bowed figure was in line with those hips. Zeus pulled his spine all the way up, allowing the cupbearer’s eyes to draw even with a nipple while the rest of his chest was covered with the draped cloth of a chiton. The fabric seemed meager on such a large, strong body, but the king’s face arrested his attention. Athena had her father’s eyes. The dark silver of a storm.

His hair was an absolute mess. Thick, unruly waves and curls of dark brown and chestnut that shimmered gold like his eagle’s feathers. Altogether, Zeus the man looked like an adolescent who had fallen into manhood without preparation.

Those tenacious fingers ever so carefully pushed Ganymede’s own hair behind his ear since the breeze had made it flop over his eyes. “Have you been treated well this morning?”

“Yes, my king,” he replied, focusing on keeping the carafe from slipping off his feet. As if reading his thoughts, Zeus lifted the vessel of nectar and gestured for him to follow back inside to the courtyard fountain next to the main chamber where everyone was gathered. He grabbed a large glass chalice and gave it a playful toss before he filled it himself. The nectar flowed in its clear, natural form into the glass.

“Attend me,” he ordered casually, setting the chalice that was more like an urn beside one of the settees around the shallow pool of water. “You know what I like.”

Ganymede gave another bow and went to fetch one of the tables of melon and shellfish. He was setting the latter down when he realized the god of the sea had followed him.

“Do you plan to eat all of my sweet children, brother?”

Zeus chuckled. “I am not our father, Pos. And last I checked, you preferred my cattle to your lobsters.”

Ganymede noticed how those grey eyes darkened but the king’s voice remained light and carefree. He left to retrieve the last of Zeus’s favorites: honey cakes that Athena also enjoyed and olives stuffed with garlic, which one of his sons approached to share.

“Are my children behaving?” Zeus directed to Ares and Athena as the siblings lowered upon a shared bench. She smiled charmingly at her brother, who openly scowled.

“You know I only provide wisdom to humans, father. It is their choice to act upon it. I cannot say the same for Ares’ motivations.”

“My faith in humanity lies in their ability to solve a problem in a proper way,” he rebuked.

“Not everything is solved with a sword in the neck,” she stated as if this were not the first time they had touched on this subject.

“Things would be simpler if they were,” he finished, popping an olive into his mouth. Athena had her mother’s blond curls but he had his father’s thick wreck of hair which he usually bound away from his face with a coiled metal band.

“Bring the berries and milk, Ganymede,” Hera said by way of announcing her presence.

“Hello, wife of mine,” Zeus welcomed with a mixture of mirth and chagrin. It was Athena who stayed Ganymede’s steps.

“Stay, Gany. She’s never favored berries and only takes milk in her bath.”

“Why would you wish to send my cupbearer away?” Zeus inquired with predictable intrigue, as if he relished engaging in a debate with his sister as often as Athena and Ares did.

“Do you not find it inconsiderate to crudely discuss a species in the presence of one of its members?” she chided, jaded by her brother’s antics as only a wife could be.

“Did you hear that, boy?” Poseidon uttered. “What praise the queen of the gods bestows on you. What danger does she think you could do this high up from other humans?”

“Don’t tease him, Pos,” Zeus retaliated, curtailing that thread of discussion. Ganymede finished refilling Poseidon’s cup and answered the beckoning warmth to stand at Zeus’s side. “I leave him in your safety for his betterment, not to be your pet.”

“Speaking of…” Athena murmured before a low whistle sang between her lips. A blur of grey brought her owl to her hand. “Someone doesn’t like being away from the commotion.”

Ares and Poseidon distracted them for a time with a discussion on the merits of sharks versus bears in war. The shark was superior, thought Poseidon, because of its strength, agility, and never-ending supply of teeth. Ares disagreed with how a bear’s fur and flesh made it quite difficult to land a killing blow. One was more likely to get killed trying to attack a bear whereas the shark was fragile in comparison…

Ganymede frowned to himself, not fully understanding how the creatures could be compared since neither were actually used for war, and neither interacted within the same environment.

Athena smiled softly when she caught his eye. She crooked her finger at him, summoning him to her side of the bench where she lifted the owl up to his shoulder. The spritely bird wiggled her way to her new perch and enthusiastically bit at his ear. Forgetting himself, Ganymede laughed against the tickles and tried not to hunch his shoulder and unsettle the creature. That beak targeted his fingers next as he ruffled her feathers, soothing her despite her best efforts to be rambunctious.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Athena murmured. Her volume was so low he was induced to bow his ear near her head.

“Pardon, my lady?”

“I’ll give you two secrets,” she enticed. She gave her owl a stroke as she said, “The first—which isn't much of a secret—my brother is an idiot.”

Ganymede’s jaw went slack and he warily peeked up to see if Ares had heard. He was too engrossed in his debate with Poseidon to notice.

“The second,” Athena reclaimed his attention as she lifted a flaky cake glistening with honey. “The reason my father loves these cakes…the humans call it baklava. My mother used to make it.”

Ganymede’s expression remained stagnant, trying to gauge the goddess’s intentions in telling him this. She gestured to her own hairline as she said, “Surely you’ve noticed the scar? I gave it to him but my mother bestowed him with an eternal sweet tooth.”

Of course he had noticed. It was the only scar Zeus had aside from a crescent of teeth marks across his shoulder blade and rib cage. The number of times Ganymede had been called upon to dress him or to try and get a comb through his hair, he knew the scars quite well.

Before he had meant to, Ganymede looked up and found the king watching him. Those storm eyes captured him in their gaze, holding him still as if hands were upon him. “Don’t be afraid,” Athena whispered in his ear. “It’s a comfort to know some ears are keener than others.”

The king’s voice resonated through the air, for his and Athena’s ears only despite the distance between them. “You are not unlike your brother, dearest of mine. You like to cause trouble.”

Her eyes glittered with mischief and cunning. “On the contrary, I like to solve trouble when I see it.”

Father and daughter went quiet then, a silent dialogue passing between them that Ganymede was not a part of. Fortunately, he was released from the uncomfortable moment by the arrival of Apollo. Hera reached out for him and grasped his hand in welcome. Though not from her own womb, she was fond of the musical god. “Why are you here so early? The day has not ended yet.”

“Helios does drive his own chariot on occasion,” he teased while reaching with his other hand for a bit of lobster. “The skies are covered in clouds at the moment. Father, you didn’t tell me you planned a monsoon.”

The owl atop Ganymede’s shoulder swiveled her head with his shock. Quickly transferring her to Athena’s hand he bowed with the apology, “I’m sorry, excuse me, my lady,” before he went to Zeus’s side. “My king, I must retrieve the washing that’s hanging from the terraces.”

“Go then,” he dismissed.

The cupbearer strode from the room before he took off at a run to beat the rain from soaking the drapery that usually hung in the king’s chambers.

He did not make it. Rain pelted the marble of the terraces, bouncing off the stone and onto his shins as his hair became drenched. He yanked the clean white linens into a ball in his arms but by the time he managed to collect them all, he was soaked to the bone and the fabrics were hardly any better. There was one piece of washing left but the wind this high up on Olympus was fierce and bodily shoved him as he tried to skirt around the balcony toward the last bit of drapery. It flapped angrily like the canvas of sailing ships—

 _Ships?_ How did he remember that? Why would he remember such things as ships? Then again, he never saw any bears or sharks up here either—

“Aah!” His feet slipped out from under him and he landed _hard_ on the marble. The ball of fabric in his arms cushioned him for the most part but his head thwacked audibly against the floor. However his hand had clutched the laundry and his fall had pulled it free of the colonnade, but the storm was unwilling to let it go. Practically pulled to his feet, Ganymede hastened to contain the drape but it was slipping through his fingers—

_“GANY!”_

The voice struck his frame like thunder as the balcony and more caught him before he toppled over the edge. Powerful arms were the vices that held him to a body as hard as the stone underneath him, pulling him away from the open chaos that was the sky. Ganymede felt himself set upon a thigh as Zeus sat with him in his lap to check for damage. “WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING—”

“I’ve got it…” he said weakly. He tried to pull the rest of the cloth to him as Zeus observed this, his mind processing the youth’s priorities.

“You foolish…I could have sent Hermes to get it. I could have turned it into a river and given mortals another story to tell.”

Ganymede shrank into himself with every word. “I’m sorry…it’s the washing for your chambers. I thought…”

The king’s warm palm cut through the ice of the rain, cradling his face. “Don’t you think the god of the sky wouldn’t mind having an unobstructed view of the stars? I don’t ever want a view of your broken body shattered on the earth. Do you understand?”

The sky trembled with thunder, and Ganymede with it. “Yes,” he uttered. The back of his throat ached. “I’m sorry.”

Zeus grew very still, his eyes slowly widening. His arms softened around Ganymede, only to close around him anew with heat, holding him close against the bite of the rain. “No…no…I never want you to be frightened of me either.”

The youth sniveled as rain mixed with the first of his tears. “I b-b…” his tremors were getting worse but he pushed on, “bear the king…king of the gods’ cup,” he hiccuped. “What else should I be?”

He felt a warm hand, almost hot in comparison to the storm, slide over his scalp, heating his cranium until the fingers came to rest over his eyes, bidding them to close. “Do you fear me right now, in this moment?” he murmured close to his ear.

Ganymede, denied his vision, nodded shakily. “Her majesty…s-she can-n’t be wrong…”

“Shhh,” he hushed. “Don’t let her words trouble you. She is angry with me, only me.”

“But…” Ganymede sniffed but he could no longer breathe through his nose. “I fill yours and the gods’ cups…I could poison them or…do worse…”

Zeus shocked him by laughing softly in his ear. “And where would you get such poison that could maim a god? You’re too smart for your own good, Gany, and that is what Hera attacks. She sees Athena’s liking for you and knows this means you are intelligent. My daughter admires your ability to see a whole puzzle instead of fixating on single pieces, but what about now, when you cannot see?”

The hand moved to push soothing circles between Ganymede’s brows, massaging the tension there while still bidding his eyes to stay closed. The other hand rested on his hip but Ganymede was held in the safety of his chest, the crevice of his neck, shoulder, and jaw. “What do you feel?”

Many things at once, he wanted to say. The wet of the rain, the cold of the sky. The hard of stone and the soft of flesh. He felt fear and comfort alike, pain in his throat and soothing warmth along all the places his body was in contact with the king of gods and the god of kings.

“You.”

Zeus’s voice both rumbled like the thunder he created and swam as softly as his clouds did through the sky. “Everything here marks this place as mine, and I take care of what is mine. This is the reason why Athena lives but her mother does not. The reason humanity is not left to the whims of themselves or to one god. I let my family share the influence over them for their betterment until they can manage on their own. Why do I tell you this?”

Gooseflesh had risen on the patches of skin where the rain touched. _Gooseflesh. When was the last time you saw a goose?_ his subconscious wondered.

“I am under your protection,” he said aloud. _At your mercy._

The hand released his eyes and stroked over his scalp to come to rest between his shoulder blades. “You are mine. A hand raised against you is a hand raised against me. Now let’s get you inside. You’re a bit more breakable than I am.”

Without further ado, he lifted Ganymede off the floor as if he weighed little to nothing and carried him all the way to the baths. On his human legs, Ganymede needed a good deal of time to get there, but for a god it was like walking into the next room. He began to squirm as if he expected to be let down, and when he wasn’t, Zeus stymied. “Be still.”

“I need to run the water,” he stated like a question.

“Not this time. You’ll be ill if another moment passes.” Seemingly of their own accord, the crack along the tops of the walls began overflowing with steaming water, filling the private area for baths.

“The nectar, and grapes,” Ganymede whined. Zeus rarely bathed without a beverage and nibbles—

 _“Gany,”_ he hushed with finality. The cupbearer, left without something to hold, twisted his hands in his lap and stiffened when Zeus lowered them into the water. Cold as he was, the waters felt scalding until he accustomed to them, but by then his flesh was pink as pearls. Zeus’s legs opened, and he lowered the youth between his knees so he could sit on the tile. Ganymede’s head craned back, neck deep in the water as he shook his hair out of the way. Zeus chuckled fondly and plunged his fingers into those tresses with soap in hand.

“Isn’t that my j—” Ganymede began, but the god’s hands stilled. His shoulders slumped, reminded to stay silent. Who was he to question a god’s intentions, even if it was his job to do the washing. His heart thumped in his chest, surely loud enough even for human ears to hear as the hands combed soap through his hair, the fingers raking it out with water.

And then it was done.

“Drink something warm,” he heard, along with the rustle of water. But when he turned around, Zeus was out of the room and his sodden chiton was left on the floor. Ganymede let his body lower just a little bit more so his sigh blew out in the form of bubbles.

Rising out of the bath, he took the discarded chiton up to Zeus’s private chambers to hang and dry, but not before he daringly retrieved the soaked bundle of drapes from the terrace. Carrying everything was thrice as heavy with the water, but he managed to climb the distance as his ears popped and the bundle landed with a squishy, heavy _plod._ His back popped as he stood erect and took a moment to observe how Zeus’s rooms were the eye of the storm. Swords of sunlight filtered through the thinner clouds, whereas the open space was walled by metallic grey storm clouds. Rehanging the wet drapes was a trial, but they would ironically dry just as well here if he had never removed them for washing.

When Ganymede finished, he went to the small side room which would have been Zeus’s own courtyard with standing pool, but instead of water, the recessed floor had been filled with a plush pallet, cushions, and blankets for his bed. Unlike the gods’ togas, chitons, armor, or even nudity, the cupbearer had a small chest full of trousers and shirts unlike any he had seen except for when Zeus and Athena returned from a place they called the east. He pulled a pair of linen trousers on that were quite baggy except for where they cinched around his ankles and waist. He reached for a shirt but felt the tingle of sunlight on his skin and let the fabric fall back inside the chest.

A small pitcher of water stood on the lip of the pool that was his bed. Crawling over the cushions, he found his favorites: a large pillow that could cradle his entire length, and a much smaller one just for his head. Usually the pallet was soft enough so the thin pillow sufficed, but today he curled around the larger cushion so the sun warmed his shoulder blade and ribcage as sleep washed over him…

He was not aware of how quickly he had fallen asleep until his eyes unwillingly opened to the touch of his body being enclosed within his plush comforter. His blurry vision and the coming of night made his mind slow to awaken, but a familiar baritone purred in his ear, “I thought I told you to drink something warm. And not to go outside.”

“Iihemumm…” he mumbled lethargically as his body was overcome with shivers, either from how close the voice was or how much the temperature had dropped, he could not tell.

Zeus laughed deeply and Ganymede could have sworn he felt a nuzzle or movement in his hair. “Gany,” he rumbled, looming over him. “I need you to shave me.”

“Muhh…” the youth sighed, finally opening clear eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

He looked over his shoulder to see the king kneeling over him with an expression which could only be described as puzzled. Ganymede elaborated, “Storms soothe you, that’s why you make them when you’re upset. The storm is gone.”

Those silver eyes processed his words until he leaned so close his dark lashes fluttered against Ganymede’s forehead. “When _someone_ goes outside against orders, I have to take measures for his safety.”

“Are the drapes dry?”

Zeus sighed loudly and Ganymede had the rather unpleasant experience of having a god’s entire weight collapse onto him. The air was all but crushed from his lungs as he was sandwiched between the cushion and a body fit to contain a god. The result was more like a flattened pillow and adolescent.

“My king, I can’t—” He sucked in a breath but tried in vain to move the behemoth of a man off of him. “Please…off!”

Zeus’s arms closed around him so his weight was propped on his elbows instead of Ganymede. His hands ruffled those almond, honey, and chocolate tresses that were curled and pushed into waves from sleeping with wet hair. Ganymede shuddered again when Zeus growled in his hair, “Your priorities are infuriating. You nearly fell off a mountain for those damn drapes.”

“They sound like birds’ wings when they flap in the breeze,” Ganymede defended, his face scrunched against the king’s tyranny. “You like that.”

His hair was suddenly flipped off his face, held at bay so Ganymede was nose to nose with those grey eyes. “How do you know that?”

Ganymede blinked a few times as the answer came without much thought. “Birds don’t…birds don’t fly as high as we live…they come for you or…you summon them…”

He frowned as a vein lifted the skin of his forehead, his breathing uneven by thought and unexpected nerves. Zeus stroked a thumb over the vein, over his brow, and swooped under an eye flushed with amber, olive, and silver flecks. Both of those irises lifted to meet Zeus’s, Ganymede’s stare inquiring and unwavering. The corner of the god’s mouth lifted but otherwise his features revealed nothing.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Sorry?” The cupbearer stared blankly as he was lifted from the floor and set on his feet. Zeus’s hand swallowed his as he led Ganymede to his private bath. Not unlike the room he had washed the youth’s hair in earlier, but this one had walls of hammered copper. Their reflections swam across the metallic surface, creating a myriad of light and shadow.

Zeus sat upon a settee and leaned back on the arm while Ganymede mixed the soap cream for shaving. The stubble of the morning had already grown long enough to curl at the ends, but under Ganymede’s experienced hands, oil warmed over a candle made the hair pliant before he scrubbed the soap over them. He wiped the oil from his hands after massaging it over Zeus’s jaw and throat. The whipped soap made his scruff stick out like merengue peaks, causing Ganymede to remember when Zeus first taught him the process of shaving. He had patiently sat while the boy went so far as to climb on his lap and create snowy mountain terrains on his face.

Older now, his hand no longer trembled at the wrong angle as he pulled the blade down Zeus’s jaw. His eyes briefly lifted to the dark lightning fissures of scar tissue stretching across the god’s temple and forehead, but then returned to the task at hand.

The hair came away easily as Zeus voiced, “I visited my brother this morning. You will attend me this evening.”

Ganymede paused but only momentarily. “How are the two related?”

Dark lashes rested on his cheeks as Zeus said, “Demeter will be joining us this evening. I went to speak with Hades over the matter of her daughter but he is nothing but true to the deal that was struck. That doesn’t spare me from Demeter’s anger. Autumn will arrive soon.”

Ganymede nodded even though the king’s eyes were closed. “Can she not visit Persephone during the winter?”

Zeus hummed deep in his chest. “An embodiment of life cannot visit a realm of death. That would create a different mess entirely.”

“But without Persephone, the earth’s flowers die. Isn’t she out of place in the underworld?”

The corner of Zeus’s mouth quirked up again into that unreadable expression. “There are exceptions, but none can be made tonight. It is fortunate you slept today because I need you to console her.”

Ganymede was dipping the blade in a basin of water when he perked up. “Console who? Demeter? _Demeter?"_

“Yes,” Zeus replied, eyes open and on him.

Ganymede stood prone, unbelieving of the task presented him. “But she…she fights with Poseidon.”

Zeus’s eyes were warm as a soft smile lifted his lips, half shaven. “Yes, because she likes to remind him that he isn’t the only one who can create an earthquake. She will be kind to you.”

“But if she fights with you and your brothers, how can you think I will have any sway on her?”

Zeus leaned up to pull him forward by the hips to continue the job. Ganymede stood between his knees, carefully inching the razor up the neck, attentive to Zeus’s apple bobbing while he spoke. “Because Athena is not wrong in your ability to calm beasts. Just be as you are, and stay near me if you feel uncomfortable. Get a shirt before we go.”

“Is there a code of dress this evening?” said Athena’s voice from the wide arched entrance.

Zeus chuckled. “Shall we tell Aphrodite?”

Athena’s eyes rolled. “You’d be inviting trouble. The fastest way for her to be naked is to tell her not to be, and the easiest way to clothe her is to compare her skin to a fabric. Pride at its finest.”

Her father outright guffawed then, throwing his head back so Ganymede had to reach with his towel to wipe the soap from his face. “And what of you, dearest owl? I seem to remember a certain spider who angered the wrong goddess.”

Athena smirked with a shake of her head. “We all go through phases. I was still relatively young, then. Her pride as a weaver needed to be put in its place. I provided the service.”

It was another moment while Zeus’s chuckles waned. His hands unconsciously roamed along Ganymede’s sides as moisturizing balm was massaged over his clean-shaven face and neck. With the rest, he spread on his hands up to his elbows as Zeus rotated him and pushed him toward the archway. “You’ll know where to find me.”

He remained on the settee as he watched the adolescent leave the room, and heard the scamper of his feet as soon as he was out of view, rushing to obey.

“Why do you have him shave you?” Athena murmured, reclaiming her father’s attention.

“Athena,” he warned.

But she continued, “A wave of your hand, just a thought, could remove the hair or halt its growth altogether, yet you took the time to teach him how to do it. You take the time to have him pamper you.”

“And why shouldn’t a god be pampered?” he challenged, matching eyes locking in a dangerous gaze.

She smiled, but it was not her customary, knowing look. It was curious…anxious. “Because this has nothing to do with pride. We’re not blind, father. He’s a good boy, and we see your affection for him, but you’ve kept him blind. One day he will see, and I think you’re afraid of that day. It’s coming sooner than you intend.”

In the distance thunder rumbled over their heads, but in the basin Ganymede had used to rinse the blade, a night-blooming water lily sprouted over the water’s surface. The king stood from his seat and procured rose gold olive leaves from the air to wear in his hair. “Demeter has arrived. I’m counting on you to show her a semblance of logic.”

“A mother’s logic is always reserved for her children,” Athena reminded as she strode alongside her father through their palace in the clouds. “You’re a father, Persephone’s in fact. One would think you’d be more receptive.”

Zeus sighed, “Sometimes, daughter, I think you say things just to watch me squirm.”

“Don’t worry, papa,” she soothed, although Zeus could not tell if the childish endearment was out of love or spite. “If I wanted to see you twitch. I’d give Gany a poke.”

Threads of lightning bounced between the walls of the corridor as their gazes locked again. Athena merely shrugged. “Food for thought.”

They swept into the lounge area, but the furniture and cushions had been removed so the marble floors were clean and visible under the feet of immortals, demigods, and companions alike who all turned to nod or bow their respects to their king. Beside each column were tall iron stands on which dishes of burning oil stood with similar trays of fruit, bread, and oil with vinegar. Poseidon, standing as tall as his brother but with black hair and eyes as sapphire blue as his beloved Mediterranean, was laughing and speaking animatedly to a woman with similar black hair that fell in lazy loops down her back. Her chosen human figure was shorter but curvy and strong, her skin significantly warmer in tone than the paler god of the sea.

“Good evening, Demeter.”

She glanced offhandedly over her shoulder at him. “Ah…I haven’t decided how much courtesy to show you tonight.”

Zeus took the insult with dignity. “Honest as ever. May we at least pretend to enjoy the evening before we argue?”

“Might as well. Our daughter has all the time in the world among the sooty crypts.”

Demeter strolled over to pluck olives and grapes from a dish, leaving the brothers and Athena to exchange looks. Poseidon gripped his brother’s shoulder. “Lovely invitation. Thank you for bringing me in the hopes of distracting her, but you’ll have to try harder, mate. You should have put more effort into thinking instead of thrusting, then none of this would have happened.”

“The fault should lie with Hades for stealing the poor girl,” Zeus corrected. “Our brother has never wanted anything. What possessed him to infuriate Demeter of all people?”

Poseidon laughed loudly, drawing curious looks from the other guests in the room. “You should know better than anyone. Humans take after you so well. They see something or someone that they want, and they won’t hesitate in taking it. Speaking of, where is—”

“Aphrodite,” Zeus cut off. The goddess, who had just entered the room, found him and smiled demurely. Swathed in a sunset pink cloth, she was uncharacteristically covered from head to toe, but none of her appeal was lost. Her irises changed color as she strode forward, her hips swaying elegantly, and her hair faded from blonde to brunette depending on how the light touched it. She lifted onto her toes to kiss both of his cheeks and hummed her approval.

“Hmm, there’s something so refreshing about a freshly shaven man. Who are you trying to impress tonight? It surely isn’t me.”

It was a testament to Aphrodite’s intelligence that she had outright condemned any romantic intrigue with him, but it was a part of her that Zeus highly respected and admired. “I’m on my best behavior for the mother of my child,” he said as he lifted his cup to his lips.

“Careful who hears that,” Aphrodite chided. “Especially when it isn’t regarding your wife.”

“Oh Hera knows,” he scoffed, although his eyes swept through the room for the queen in question. She usually preferred to spend her nights strolling along rivers or through towns, encouraging newlyweds and aged couples alike to their beds.

A gruff sound came from Poseidon as he processed that. “You know brother, sometimes I think you only get away with half of your antics because you were the one who didn’t get swallowed. How careless of our mother to have the useful thought of saving her children when you were the only one left.”

“Obviously our father had the sense to save the best for last,” Zeus sassed after gulping his cup dry of nectar.

“Or avoid the worst until last,” Poseidon countered without missing a beat.

In his peripheral vision, Zeus saw Demeter move from the food dishes to converse with a group of nymphs in the courtyard. He murmured to his brother, “Just keep her from biting my head off, yeah? It doesn’t matter what I say, she can’t be convinced that Hades actually treats Persephone like the queen of his realm.”

Poseidon scratched at his scruff, pondering. “Shall I tempt her into creating a new continent? She never tires of our earthquake duels.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Zeus disregarded as his eyes roamed for a new figure. “Where is my son?”

“Which one?”

Zeus gave him a deadpan look, to which Poseidon shrugged. “You have a few of them.”

The one in question, Dionysus, was speaking with a demeanor that could be categorized as either boisterous or drunken. He seemed to be examining a slice of apple as he exclaimed, “You know, I’ve seen humans put fruit into their wine. My initial reaction was why would you change perfection? But it’s delicious!”

Demeter had heard and smirked. “When did you lose such faith in my crops?”

Dionysus raised his glass to her. “You supply the dirt, but I’m in charge of the grapes. Trust the humans to create such a concoction.”

She pivoted fully to face him, clearly enticed by some sort of challenge. She came to stand with him and his satyrs, discussing crop output, fermentation, and all things food related. Poseidon and Zeus exchanged looks of mild surprise. The former commented, “It seems I am not needed this evening. Who’d have thought Dion would pull through when you needed him.”

A velvety snort drew Zeus’s attention to Athena whereas Poseidon bristled. “Does the great owl have something to say?”

She slid her hair behind her ear as she moved to leave the gathering. “I don’t have the patience for ignorant old men.”

“Nor I for virginal scholars,” Poseidon retorted. “Until next time, brother.”

Poseidon went to the wading pool and sank into the waters, disappearing to his own seas while Zeus made Athena stay a moment longer. “What’s upset you?”

She looked at him as if he was truly oblivious. “You’re so tall you forget to look down. Good night, father.”

A blur of grey flew between them, Athena’s owl initiating her physical change into a much larger twin. He watched the two birds fly out of the open room and dive over the terrace and out of sight. Lifting his cup to his lips, he wondered what she could possibly mean, when he realized…his cup was full. He had drained it and…when had he even reached for his cup?

Turning around, he found Ganymede standing behind him with his urn of nectar, his eyes wandering the room as if in a daze but expertly monitoring the contents of their glasses. Ganymede shivered, feeling the king’s gaze on him and lifted his eyes; they dropped to Zeus’s cup only to see it full, and lifted them again inquiringly before doubling over in a deep bow. “How may I serve, my king?”

Zeus’s gaze absorbed Ganymede standing beside a pillar, as inconspicuous as the lamp and food on either side of him. He had dressed in a matching linen shirt tucked into his waist high trousers, but also a sleeveless robe of sunrise orange embroidered with rose gold thread. It was a gift from Athena once he was tall enough to wear it, but sewn with Zeus’s preferred rose gold instead of her customary silver. The colors made the amber of his hair and eyes stand out, but as Zeus stepped toward him, he desired to see those splashes of green…

“You already have and I didn’t even notice. Did you bring the bowl of fruit to Dionysus?”

Ganymede nodded even though he was already bowed. “Yes, my king. Demeter takes pride in her harvests but these include Dionysus’s grapes. He’s…” Ganymede peeked up but immediately ducked his head, “…loud, my king, but shares her pride in the earth…”

His words halted in a gasp as Zeus’s hand cupped his jaw, ushering him to stand up. He was not satisfied until he saw those silvery-green tones. Zeus’s hand moved to cradle more the side of his face, his thumb stroking over Ganymede’s cheek—

Zeus’s eyes darted to the side, finding Aphrodite and her son Eros watching him. She smiled with mild amusement, her elbow resting on her son’s shoulder and her hand playing with his golden curls. His arm was around her waist and his gaze rested on Ganymede. Eros did not look unlike Ganymede: similar in height and adolescent physique, only his hair and eyes differed in being gold and fully green. But his appearance was hardly worth noting in Zeus’s opinion; the young god was as playful as Hermes but twice as rash.

He did not realize his grip on Ganymede’s chin had tightened until he heard the youth’s heart pounding louder in his chest. Immediately releasing him, Zeus opened his mouth to send him back to their private chambers, but Aphrodite stepped forward.

“They say the mark of a good servant is one you don’t notice exists, but how can one so beautiful go unnoticed? The most beautiful person in the presence of gods... Where has Zeus been keeping you?”

Ganymede held onto his carafe while looking up to the god in question imploringly. Zeus answered by stepping between him and the goddess of beauty. “He’s done nothing to warrant your anger.”

She laughed merrily. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

“He isn’t afraid to look us in the eye,” Eros observed. Zeus whirled around, realizing Eros had snuck behind him and was scrutinizing Ganymede so closely they could have touched noses. Ganymede startled when Eros shrieked out a laugh. “He has freckles! One there, and there…three, four…”

As he counted the splash of freckles on Ganymede’s cheeks, Zeus gripped his hair and pulled him back. The cupbearer gaped initially at the king and Eros’s indignant squawk, but he scrambled backward at the sight of Aphrodite. It was the only moment he had ever seen her be hideous.

“Release my son, king, or those golden leaves will bend as far as I push them. A decoration does not reap power.”

Ganymede gasped loudly when someone caught him. He looked up into the kind face of Apollo. The arm around Ganymede’s waist was hot to the touch but Apollo gave him a reassuring smile before he said, “No, but springing from the sea doesn’t make you much more than a dolphin, does it?”

Aphrodite’s grin was malicious. “Watch your golden tongue, boy. I’ll wear it like your father’s laurels.”

“An ill omen,” Eros chimed as he mussed his hair back into its glorious mess of curls, “since that side of the family wears laurels for fallen lovers.”

Ganymede immediately regretted being caught by Apollo. His flesh went from warm to searing hot, causing Zeus to yank Ganymede away from getting burned. Nectar spilled across the floor, splashing on their feet and legs.

 _“And whose fault is that?”_ Apollo growled, but his voice no longer sounded human. “An innocent girl’s limbs have been frozen to wood because you can’t aim your power—”

“Ah ah!” Eros warned, “None of that. It wasn’t me who turned her into wood, and it wasn’t me who blew the discus into Hyacinthus’ head.”

As quickly as Apollo’s fever had spiked, it broke, but not for the better. Ganymede had a millisecond to see the expression on Apollo’s face before Zeus covered his eyes. He knew why a moment later. The room was alight with a blinding silvery-blue glow, and the source of it stood with her brother, shielding his kneeling form on the floor. Artemis’s white hair was tied back out of the way from her strikingly pale eyes, nearly as white as her hair. Her arms were around her twin but her hunter’s eyes were on Eros.

She said not a word and did not move to touch the large silver bow and quiver of arrows on her back, but Zeus covered Ganymede’s eyes once again to protect him from her light, and when he could see again, the twins were gone.

As quickly as they were gone, Zeus’s hold on Ganymede tightened and the scene left them in a blur to be replaced by their private chambers. The cupbearer lurched forward, doubling over as his stomach turned inside out. The thought to find a bin flashed in his mind but he was not fast enough.

Zeus was, so when Ganymede heaved, a bin caught the sick. “I’m sorry,” the king soothed, rubbing his back. With each stroke Ganymede felt better. “I moved too quickly, but the danger was becoming too great. Your arms are pink; I barely stopped the burns.”

Ganymede shook his head while wiping his mouth. Zeus met him with a cup of water to clear his throat. “Was it my fault?”

Zeus’s chin jerked up where he knelt before him. “ _No._ Nothing is your fault.” He gently pushed the youth’s chest the same time he pulled his knees to buckle. Ganymede landed rather ungracefully on a settee that had crept up behind him.

“Should I not…not look? What did he mean about the leaves in your hair?”

Zeus caught his chin, silently demanding those eyes to meet his. “You have every right to look, Gany. Do not let his words trouble you.”

The god’s tanned hands appeared darker in the candle and lamplight of his chambers as he wiggled the hems of Ganymede’s pant legs further up his shins. The mouse brown hair on his legs was soft and barely noticeable as the king’s hand came to cradle the back of his ankle.

“Apollo looked…” Ganymede continued. “He looked…”

“Heartbroken,” Zeus provided. His chin craned back up to look at him with somber eyes. “He is heartbroken, Gany. Someone he loved very dearly was taken from him. Can you imagine such a feeling?”

Ganymede sat as a statue, his silence answer enough. Zeus smiled without mirth and redirected his attention back to his slender feet. Ganymede did not understand his intention until Zeus lifted his ankles and sucked a drop of nectar from the top of his foot. The air halted in his lungs at the feeling of soft lips on his skin and the slight prickle of new stubble.

“Can you imagine a bruised heart? Bleeding without blood, bones you cannot mend. An agony you cannot see?”

“But you did see it,” Ganymede almost whispered. “Apollo was…”

Zeus kissed over the tops of his feet to his opposite ankle to catch another drop of nectar. “He would rather you forgot him in his weakest state, and so would I. You’ll never feel that pain. You’ll never want for anything.”

Ganymede felt weakness in his ankles, a pliable numbness that spread up his legs like gooey honey, but he looked at the rose gold ornaments in Zeus’s hair. “Is it true?” he asked, reaching forward to touched the metal leaves. “Do you wear them for lovers—?”

His hand shot back, the pads of his fingers bitten but the sharp leaf edges. Zeus set his feet on a muscled thigh in favor of reaching for that hand and kissing the shallow lacerations. “On the contrary,” he murmured between fingers, “Apollo bestows laurel leaves on his champions, humans living life to their fullest, but it is in honor of a nymph taken before her time. Mine are olive leaves.”

“What does that mean?” Ganymede wondered as Zeus suckled a bloody cut. His lips dragged up his finger as his eyelashes lifted onto him.

One of his eyebrows twitched with mirth. “A souvenir of sorts. Athena won the people’s favor with an olive tree; it was quite the victory over Pos. He’s probably scheming a punishment right now for me wearing the leaves and inviting him like a puppet.”

Ganymede giggled. “Isn’t it also dangerous to show who’s your favorite? Demeter might already be angry with you for liking Athena over Persephone.”

His smile faded as he sensed Zeus’s mood change. “My king?”

“You’re right,” he murmured, his voice hushed…pained. For some reason, Ganymede was not sure what they were talking about anymore. Zeus set his feet on the floor and released his hand, now healed. He stood. “Stay here.” And left.

Ganymede glanced around the room, acutely aware of the distances between each piece of furniture, the ebb and flow of the drapes hanging from the arches framing the room and terrace. He looked up to the stars, far away and twinkling in the company of thousands upon thousands of siblings and friends.

Removing the orange robe, he left it on the settee and went to the bath to wash his face and feet. He was already finished washing nectar from one of his pant legs when he realized he was not alone. It took too long to figure out that the distorted colors reflecting in the copper walls was Aphrodite leaning against the entrance.

He splashed water over the floor in his haste to clamber out of the bath. Not risking a slip, he pulled his legs out of the water and bowed so low on his knees that his forehead hit the floor. “My lady—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

Truth be told, he thought only Athena was allowed to enter Zeus’s chambers without his permission. Ganymede had never even seen Hera in here. 

Aphrodite curtailed, “Don’t fret. I was only observing the force of Zeus’s infatuation.”

Ganymede shook his head, eyes on the floor. “Pardon, my lady, I don’t understand.”

“You’re practically hanging over the edge of the bath, you clumsy swan. You’re braver than this. Stand up.”

He obeyed but did not look up. He could see her toga drag over the floor as she stepped toward him. “I see Zeus has not shown you how to handle _that._ He is just full of surprises. I wonder how he restrained himself?”

In his curiosity, Ganymede peeked up at her, and she directed his gaze with a simple look at his groin pushing against his trousers. “The humans consider it rude to have an erection in the company of others.”

His jaw went slack, unsure what to do. He gawkily began to rotate out of sight but she tossed her head back. “Don’t bother. If I had a leaf for every time I saw a man rise to an occasion my trees would outnumber Athena’s. It’s not your fault; you haven’t been in the company of prudent humans in years, decades possibly. Time is so easily forgettable up here.”

Ganymede gauged it all right to turn back toward her but he clasped his hands over himself, exceedingly uncomfortable. Aphrodite noticed. “I won’t touch you, sweet boy. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

His brow began to furrow so she supplied, “I’ll say it plainly: I’ve never seen the great Zeus apologize to anyone. Anyone. It is beneath him. Everyone knows he likes you but I and my son felt something keenly different than what we expected.”

She bowed slightly to examine his face in a similar way Eros had done. “Many believe I am the reason he stole you. That the aesthetic of the most beautiful boy would anger the marvelous Aphrodite, but they don’t understand.”

“I’m not!” Ganymede shook his head urgently. “You—You are the goddess of beauty and love. I can’t—I’m not!”

“Exactly,” she hushed, making him shiver as she strolled around him, eyeing him from head to toe. “Humans are too young to know that I and my beauty are a figment of their imagination, an abstract notion they seek with desperate claws to grasp. They spin tales that throw me in shallow waters, thinking that all I care about is a pretty face and a strong cock to give me children. They forget that I swam out of the depths of an ocean to breathe air and broke my ankles learning how to walk. Beauty is earned and beauty is learned…which is why you are such an intriguing thing. My son crafts arrows of deep love or fleeting infatuation with which he takes aim, but tonight was the first time either of us met you, and we can feel…something fathomless and kindling inside of you. If Zeus were to keep you a secret from me, it is because I am the only one apart from Athena who can see inside of him, because love rests in both the mind and the heart. Tell me, do you know what it even means to be a lover?”

As she came to stand in front of him once more, the light played such tricks across her skin that each time he blinked her flesh looked either rich with melatonin or as fair as Artemis. He shook his head.

She hummed deep in her throat in acknowledgement. “For everyone it means something a little different, but it is a sharing of the body or the mind, and if you’re lucky, both. It means trusting your fears to another, trusting them to stroke your comforts and harvest your laughter.” She gave another pointed glance toward his groin, causing him to tighten around himself protectively. “It means letting someone touch you where only you have touched and more. It means sharing your body with theirs, writhing with sweat and sensations unlike other mundane feelings. Would you want that? You seem to already relish the touch of warm palms on your skin, of fingers reaching for you.”

Ganymede blinked rapidly, his discomfort multiplying a hundredfold. She was too close and his voice was not working so all he could do was shake his head pleadingly. “Don’t worry, swan,” she purred. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you, but you have a right to know why. Remove your garment.”

“What?” his voice spiked. Zeus had laughed the morning he had woken up with a crackling, deeper voice but it was as if Ganymede had regressed a couple years.

“Your shirt,” she clarified. “With haste, preferably. I don’t like to linger in baths that are not my own.”

Ganymede obeyed, pulling the fabric over his head. His hair flopped with a series of cowlicks but he held the bundle over his pelvis and waited for her next direction. “Look at the wall, what do you see?”

He looked behind him, seeing parts of himself clearly in the hammered copper surface but nothing out of the ordinary. “I don't understand,” he answered shyly.

“Hmm,” she hummed again. “Because when Zeus stole you he bandaged you in a special swaddle. I think you’ve outgrown it.”

In the reflection, he watched her reach toward him, but her fingers never connected with his skin. He experienced the uncanny feeling of the lightest silk slithering over his back and he saw something opalescent disappear from her hands before he looked at his reflection once more…and…he felt as if his ribcage had turned to stone.

“So you see,” Aphrodite murmured, “the irony between us is that if I were to care about beauty, he marred you so my attentions would not linger. But then again, he’s made it so every mortal and immortal’s eye would land on you if you were to let them see all of you. Did you ever wonder why Zeus covered you even in the presence of naked gods?”

Ganymede did not understand…and yet the truth was staring back at him, was embedded into his flesh. Three thick scars stretched diagonally across his back, starting from his right shoulder and ending beneath the high waist of his pants. The scar tissue was faded but still shiny so the dark pink, jagged claw marks reminded him of the talons of Zeus’s eagle.

“He wouldn’t…” he sucked in air to fill his lungs. “He wouldn’t… He’s never hurt me.”

“You didn’t believe you were born here, did you?” Aphrodite chided gently. “Little children are wriggly things. We can’t blame a bird for the slip…just be glad he caught you.”

Then, of all the things to feel, Ganymede realized with stunning clarity that he was angry. He whirled on the goddess, “Why did you show me this? I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing this! Where was I taken from— _Who_ was I stolen from? I have…my parents! Who are my parents?”

“Do you really care?” she wondered skeptically. “They might be dead. As for why I did it, Zeus already suspects my son to be responsible for Hades’ transgressions. Frankly, I like Demeter. She is full of fire and ought to be the queen in Hera’s place, but her daughter is an impressionable brat. I won’t have my son suffer for her idiocy. For six months she’s convinced she’s in love with Hades and then spends the rest of the year being convinced that ‘mother knows best.’ Consider it a compliment and a warning that you have more of a spine than a goddess. It might save you one day.”

She lazily turned toward the exit and began to stroll out of the room, but Ganymede was caught in the throes of anger and panic. “The king isn’t going to be happy that these scars are visible now! Is this saving Eros?”

“Then I suggest you keep them covered,” she said without looking back. She did spare him a glance before she vanished out of sight. “I said your spine _might_ save you. It can just as easily snap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to make clear that Zeus is not a pedophile lol Gany is about 14/15 here but this story is a slow build for a reason <3


	2. Sorted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Greek alphabet is discussed a little bit in this chapter but please know that my knowledge of Greek is very limited, so if you know more than I, feel free to shout out if something is blatantly wrong haha

Athena’s attention perked up, possibly one of the few times she had ever been surprised. “What inspired this?”

Ganymede shrugged. “I want to learn. Carrying nectar doesn’t occupy my thoughts like it used to.”

Her gaze held for several long seconds and then she laughed merrily. The small owl on her shoulder moved restlessly, disturbed from her sleep. “Of course I’ll teach you to read. I’m only stunned you haven’t asked me sooner.”

The smile Ganymede wore was ambivalent but also curious. As the keeper of knowledge, Athena had no real need for books, but he found himself seeking reprieve in her libraries, a massive circle of architecture around a central wading pool. Lily pads and other aquatic flora drifted in areas while naiads sometimes poked their heads above the surface or actively splashed with play.

Standing from her large table, Athena led the way through the shelves. “It is convenient you asked me now. You’re now tall enough to reach certain shelves…or at least strong enough to climb to them.”

One of Ganymede’s eyebrows perked up as he looked up the impressive height of the shelves. In truth, only she or another god could reach such heights, but he noticed the sparkle of silver as a ladder was erected for his benefit on each set of shelves.

Turning a corner, an open space awaited them, a large sand pit surrounded by a stone seat with cushions for them to sit. Ganymede collected the rods she gestured to and sat beside her as she drew in the sand at their feet. “This is the letter _alpha_ , but it has two forms. The same goes for the other characters, but one at a time…”

He watched the end of the rod push sand to make way for language. For the most part, the larger versions of the letters resembled their smaller counterparts, but Athena created a word, and seeing the two forms together gave him pause.

“The first is gamma,” he said with surety. The rest were hesitant. “…Alpha, Ga…”

“Nu,” Athena prompted.

“Nu, Gan…” he continued, but the smaller pair of letters was drawn too similarly to tell. Athena worked him through each letter until he pieced them together: “Ganumedee.”

Athena chuckled. “Almost. Ganymede. It is your name.”

Silence ensued, only broken by her laughter reaching a new pitch, startling him. “You appear so disappointed. There are other languages with different letters, for your aesthetic liking but this is the closest form of your name other than the verbal word.”

“How do you mean?” his brow furrowed.

She did not answer. Instead she wrote something else, and so progressed the lesson. Athena proved a patient but thorough instructor. By that evening, Ganymede could read anything relating to wine quite well. “I will teach you to read what you already know,” she explained, “and then we will move forward.”

She had matters to attend to for the rest of the day, so she wrote out each letter and gave him the task of practicing in the sand. It became a trial to not kick sand over her letters as he drew with the rod, so he knelt down instead and worked directly with his hands. He worked well into the night and when he returned to the library the following morning, there was still sand on his shins.

“Good morning, Gany,” she beamed, the owl flying circles over her head. “I see I haven’t frightened you off yet. Shall I try harder today?”

So progressed their lessons for several days. In the third week of his instruction, Athena voiced, “Does my father not require you in the mornings?”

Ganymede shrugged over the book he was frowning over, painstakingly deciphering each letter and word. “He usually comes during the late morning or not at all.”

“I see,” she uttered, and did not say a word more. This proved correct over the following weeks until Zeus himself strolled into his room at the first light of dawn.

“I’ve forgotten how beautiful the light is in here this early—Gany?”

Of course his rooms were empty, they were _his_ and no one was allowed here, but when he turned the corner to Ganymede's bed, the god stared as if simply waiting would manifest his cupbearer into being.

If he were anyone other than himself, he might have startled at the sudden pinpricks of pain in his shoulder, but he merely glanced at the owl that had landed on his shoulder. “You’ve been neglecting him,” Athena said behind him.

“I’ve done no such thing,” Zeus combatted lazily, ruffling the bird’s breast feathers. “Surely I don’t have to justify my reasons for being busy.”

“You don’t,” his daughter agreed as he faced her, “because I already know them.”

Zeus’s eyelids dropped to half-mast in annoyance and he chose to ignore her point. “Where is he?”

“In my library.”

A smile teased at the king’s mouth. “Why there?”

Athena outright grinned. “Carrying your beverages bores him. He’s asked me to teach him to read. He is a swift learner.”

“Of course he is,” Zeus declared, neither surprised nor angry. On the contrary, his voice was warm and husky. The owl swayed on his shoulder as he made to leave the room.

“Careful, papa,” she warned. “I won’t have you disrupt my pupil’s lesson.”

“Is there a lesson to be had with no instructor?” he challenged as she marched beside him. There were not many gods or goddesses who could keep pace with him, and it made him proud beyond measure that she could.

“Most of the work is his own, now,” she explained. “He knows the characters but he must practice in order to master them.”

“With those naiads splashing around?” he doubted. “Are you sure he is really studying?”

“We are not all as wanton as you, father,” she rebuked. “They have actually helped him a great deal.”

“How so?” Shards of sunlight cut through the cloudy ceiling as they made their way through the mountainous corridors to her libraries.

“They used to muddy my sand pits to build castles but now they’ve taken to molding the sands into words for him. The spontaneity and company has hastened his progress a great deal. When was the last time you saw him?”

“One can’t be sure,” he evaded.

“That disaster of a gathering was a long time ago,” she reiterated for him. “Do you know how much time has passed? He is practically a man now.”

“His mind was always leagues ahead of his body. This makes no difference.”

“Because he lives with us,” she countered, and gripped his elbow to bring them to a halt. “I have taught him numbers as well as letters, papa.”

Zeus’s expression hardened. “Speak plainly.”

“It is only a matter of time before he calculates how old he is.”

“He has nothing to compare that number to,” Zeus reminded.

“Yes he does,” she uttered. “When he knows his age and sees his reflection compared to ours, coupled with other humans’, he will see that he ages slowly but surely.”

 _“He will not compare himself to other—”_ Zeus bristled, but Athena cut him off.

“There it is.” Her owl fluttered to her shoulder and nestled in the crook of her neck and jaw. “Father, you expect to keep him here even though in his entire life he has been made aware that he is not like us. Even so, he will read stories of men dying with a small number of years, numbers he has already surpassed, but then he will see himself aging. Slower, perhaps, than the rest of his kind, but nonetheless he will never be like us. You have trapped him in an in-between state, placed him on a timeline that is longer than a human’s but shorter than ours. You have made it so you can watch him grow at your leisure, and live just so. Your selfishness makes you believe you can watch and freeze his age if you want, but we both know how much trouble that would cause. How many immortals have wanted the same privilege for their loved ones but been denied?”

“I thought Pandora’s box was on earth, daughter,” he said quietly, a tone he adopted in times of intense thought as well as danger. “Why have you created another and given him the key?”

“I may have given him the key but you created the box,” she countered, “It is his right to open it.”

“Not if it causes him mental and physical harm,” he declared. “You might have saved him from knowing any of this.”

 _“He asked me,”_ she uttered darkly. “If he was truly ignorant he never would have asked me to teach him. Do not place blame on me when each and every one of us is responsible for reminding him of what he is and where he comes from.”

“You are not wrong but you are playing with more fire than Hephaestus,” Zeus warned.

“Who taught him to weld?” she grinned maliciously.

“Do not pretend like we are threads on your loom,” her father glared over her.

“Then don’t act like he is a fluffy cloud for you to play with in your skies,” she returned. She retreated and waved a hand at him. “I have Athenians to govern. Do not topple my library’s shelves in spite.”

He watched the pair of owls dart through the columns and out of sight. With her words simmering in his mind, he rounded the last bend in the corridor and entered the space that was all golden light and white stone. Tomes stood sentinel as he passed along the inner circle where the water lapped at the shore of marble. It occurred to him that Athena had quite a few sand pits in here, but the songs of water nymphs led him to the one he wanted. The ladies giggled and ducked under the water when he approached, but the youth lying on his stomach with his elbows propped on a book was oblivious.

“So this is why there is sand in my quarters.”

Ganymede startled, his palms slamming on the pages in the attempt to rise but Zeus was already kneeling over him so his head bumped the god's clavicle. Zeus breathed him in. “Your hair has grown quite long. You’ve had to tie it back.”

He settled on his hip beside Ganymede, his arm propped in the sand on the opposite side of his cupbearer. The latter pivoted to look up at him. “Do you want the rooms cleaned, my king?”

Zeus shook his head. “The wind’s already cleared it away by now. Are you not warm in this?”

He gave Ganymede’s garment a tug: a crimson long-sleeve shirt over his customary trousers that were riding up his shins with his new height. Zeus observed this as Ganymede explained, “The sun burns me.”

“Ah,” Zeus nodded. “Helios must be pleased to have longer days to ride his chariot. I should have thought of this. Your cheeks are quite pink.”

“I don’t mind,” Ganymede assured. He turned back to his book even while clouds moved over them and cast the white sand in a grey light. He felt Zeus’s fingertips push into the confines of his hair and pull the leather band free. The weight of his hair tumbled over his shoulder blades, straightening what would have otherwise been sleepy cowlicks and rumples.

“Shall I trim it?”

One of those shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Either way…I don’t mind.”

Zeus’s form was statuesque behind him. “That is unlike you... Where are our conversations? I long for your opinions. Do not pretend that you do not have any. I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I had matters to attend to.”

“I know,” Ganymede said. “I like reading. I’m not bothered.”

“Hmmm,” Zeus hummed, disgruntled. He looked over Ganymede’s head at the words on the pages. “Athena has accused me of neglecting you.”

Ganymede’s head swiveled toward him. “I never said that! I never felt—”

His words were cut short by Zeus’s laughter. “I know, I know. You’ve never been one to complain of anything…but your eyes tell me you are wary of me. Why is that?”

Those irises were more green than brown today, and they averted from him. “I didn’t mean to anger or disappoint you.”

“Do I look disappointed?” He moved the flesh of his face around, puckering his lips. “I need to control this better. I’m not disappointed in the slightest.”

“Angry then,” Ganymede declared.

Zeus’s expression settled into something somber, denied the reaction he wanted. Athena was right: Ganymede had grown out of his naivety. “Not because of you.”

Gany’s eyes lifted. “It’s spring. Is it not Demeter?”

His chest lifted with breath. “No, finally. Only another war below, and my brother.”

Ganymede rolled over, settling his head on the king’s thigh and all ears. Zeus’s fingers began to tread through those dark honey waves. “A bored immortal is a dangerous thing. It is part of the reason my father went mad. In Poseidon’s case…he has turned his eyes to Athena’s city since he knows she will defend it with ingenuity. It isn’t the first time and it will not be the last. It brews a nuisance for me every time, though, hearing the prayers and smelling the incense of women wanting blessings for their men, and men wanting the strength to protect their children. It is not a simple thing for me to grant them what they want.”

“Is this not an issue between Athena and Poseidon?” Ganymede inquired. “Why do the people of Athens not pray to one of them?”

“Because I am the father of one and the brother of the other,” he elaborated in a sigh. The skin around his eyes slowly darkened and sank, finally revealing his fatigue. This thumb lightly dragged between Ganymede’s eyes before his hand went through his hair. “Apparently they believe I will play mediator.”

Ganymede’s giggles pulled a smile from him. “They don’t know Athena or Poseidon very well.”

“Too true,” Zeus agreed. “Like trying to step between two wolves who believe they are the kings of the same bone.”

“I’ve never seen wolves,” Ganymede said.

“Misunderstood creatures,” Zeus answered. “You’ve seen Ares’ dogs?”

“I’ve only heard them. You make him leave them outside of the palace, on earth. They howl up at the sky and snarl at each other.”

“Dogs can be trained for domesticity or war, and my son prefers the latter. Wolves are the ancestors of dogs and too noble to be crafted for our use. They mind their business and look after their packs.”

“I’d like to see them,” Ganymede voiced before he quickly amended, “or read about them.”

Zeus eyed him and ventured, “If I brought one here, would you be afraid?”

Dark lashes lifted to see him. “Not if you were here, but would it not be unhappy to be separated from its pack?”

Zeus read through his words. “We cannot go to them. It is dangerous to see them in their own land. They are territorial animals.”

Those eyes averted to the sky beyond. “No wonder you used them for comparison. What is Poseidon doing to the city?”

“For once it’s not his fault other than being a pitiful loser in competition. The Athenians have built a Parthenon in Athena’s honor but the decoration is a carved narrative of her accomplishments: including her victory over Pos during the city’s founding. He would prefer for his failure to not be praised, but I fear his pride will be the catalyst to a rash decision. Athena is able to ignore small slights but what she judges as small, may not match to my brother’s definition.”

“Will you have to step between them, then?”

Zeus smiled down at him. “Would you attend my wounds if I did?”

“Would you have any?” Ganymede countered, causing Zeus to guffaw.

“From my brother and daughter, no, but from my grandmother, most certainly since the earth would suffer from such a war.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Oh yes,” he nodded. “Gaia still lives. She wanders elsewhere in the universe, but she always cradles her creations, and I would rather not draw her attention back here.”

“What will be done?” Ganymede redirected.

“Unless tensions escalate, nothing. There will be some damage among the humans, but it will end with just that.”

“Some deaths are all right but where is the line between ‘some’ and ‘too many’?”

“To be honest,” Zeus said after a deep inhalation, “it would depend on the humans involved. Apollo was grievous but understanding when Hyacinthus passed. His sister was not as accommodating with Orion. Putting him among the stars appeased her but when demigods or companions are in danger, some sort of control must be placed on the amount of damage. As of right now there is only one human who might be a threat…”

“For Poseidon or Athena?”

“Athena.”

Ganymede’s head shifted. “Athena has a companion?”

Zeus’s gaze was far away, possibly spying on the human in question. “Not a companion but…one she admires. A young woman by the name of Pallas, but I think Athena is like her brother in that she will grieve, but not behave rashly as a result of her death.”

His eyes closed suddenly as breath rushed out of him. Ganymede watched a hand lift to the scar on his forehead and temple. “I adore that bird brain but she has been giving me a headache since her conception.”

Ganymede sat up and scooted away before he pulled on Zeus’s shoulders. The god pliantly fell into his lap. Far off in the pond, the naiads were singing a soothing melody as the pads of Ganymede’s thumbs pressed circles between his eyes, and worked their way along his hairline and temples. His other fingers dragged through the dark hair, sending pleasant tingles to the other side of the ache. The king’s lips parted with his sigh; long, dark lashes rested on his cheekbones, heavy with trust.

“You are ever good to me, Gany.”

“Should I not be?” he wondered quietly, to not enrage his headache further.

“Depends whom you ask,” Zeus chuckled.

“What would they say?”

The king was silent for a time, at the mercy of Ganymede’s fingers. “That I am evil, distracted…wanton and foolish.”

“Hopefully not all at the same time,” the youth uttered, causing Zeus’s eyes to open while a smile curved his lips.

“Heavens, no! It is a comfort to know I have not reached _that_ depth of monstrosity. Would you tell me if I ever reached such a place?”

“If Athena doesn’t do it first,” he smiled.

Zeus reached up to hold the side of his head. “She favors you as well, but Poseidon is not brazen enough to touch you.”

“If he did?” Ganymede asked.

“The gods would go thirsty,” a different voice answered; a familiar, throaty female voice. Ganymede doubled over in his best attempt at a bow given the circumstances, which resulted in his hair hanging over Zeus’s stomach. Hera came to the sand’s edge. “Poseidon cannot risk all of Olympus crashing over his foolish head. What is my lazier half doing?”

“Enjoying a view of fabric,” came his reply. He pushed Ganymede back up so he could meet his wife’s gaze. “Do you have need of me?”

“Your sons are competing again,” she informed as if it was his fault.

“Please tell me you mean Hermes and Apollo.” Zeus made no move to rise off of Ganymede until further information was given.

Hera scoffed, “Yes, Hermes and Apollo, and be glad you only have to judge who plays the lyre best. Sort them out before Dionysus mistakes their racket for a festival.”

“Would that be the worst thing?” Zeus teased.

Her expression sharpened. “Either you can sort it out, or I will.”

Without further ado, the king heaved himself up. “A king to all except his queen.”

Ganymede ducked his chin to hide his smile but his eyes watched Zeus drape an arm around Hera’s waist as they strolled from the library. He turned his head to the nymphs frolicking in the water, oblivious of everyone except each other—

“Lonely?”

Ganymede’s neck hurt when it swiveled in the other direction to find Eros gazing up at him where he lay on his stomach. For a moment they simply stared at one another, Ganymede unsure how to proceed and Eros refraining from counting his freckles.

“I’m sorry my mother threatened you. I suppose from a retrospective point of view, I am to blame. She was the first victim to my arrows.”

Ganymede blinked dumbly. “You shot your mother?”

“Well…yeah,” Eros stated bluntly. “I needed an ally in this place and I knew I wouldn’t get help from my father. I’m not like my siblings.”

Ganymede was not sure which to think about: how someone had managed to shoot Aphrodite with an arrow of any kind, or how Ares could have possibly contributed to the making of a god of love. He chose a different route: “Who are your siblings?”

“Oh, you know,” Eros began, twisting to lie on his back. “Deimos and Phobos, otherwise known as terror and fear.”

“I don’t know,” Ganymede corrected.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Eros laughed merrily, causing Ganymede to frown at the contradiction. “They’re not allowed up here; not like they would have any interest in a peaceful spot on a mountain tucked away in the clouds, any how. Makes existence much better for me.”

Ganymede chose to nod along. “And…how long were you here?”

“The whole time,” he chimed. “Zeus is besotted with you and I didn’t have to do anything. Hopefully Hera won’t catch the hint…blaring in its blatancy though it is. She’s strong but not too swift in the mental arena. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“So I’ve heard,” Ganymede returned quietly.

Eros propped himself up. “Aw, no really. I’ve never seen him… _gentle…_ He didn’t just walk in and name himself king, after all. There was kind of a problem with a bloke eating everything.”

“I know,” the other nodded. “He has scars.”

Eros shot all the way up and was boring into Ganymede’s eyes. “You’ve _seen_ them? What are they like?”

Ganymede’s jaw went slack as his mind tried to fill it with words. “I—Wha—uh, you haven’t seen them? They’re kind of obvious.”

“Sure, sure, on his back, but I haven’t seen them _up close!_ What are they like?”

Even after holding Zeus’s head in his lap, Ganymede had never experienced having a god’s full attention focused on him, and he was not entirely sure what to do with it. “They’re just…a bite mark, only much larger; like the craters your teeth make when you try to bite into fruit but don’t finish the bite.”

“How much larger?”

Ganymede frowned. “You could tell from far away, couldn’t you? They take up half his back, an entire shoulder blade. His shoulders are a bit wider up close.”

Eros’ expression changed dramatically, then, and he nudged Ganymede’s ribs. “I’m sure they are, and what a delicious weight to have over you.”

“What? He’s really heavy…”

“Never mind. What are you going to do now?”

Ganymede pulled the book to him and shook it free of sand. “I meant to finish this chapter, and I need to put the books bac---”

Eros’ palm flattened the book back into the sand. “Not _that._ About Zeus!”

“What about him?”

Eros flopped as if he needed a moment to lament the innocence of the situation. “I’m not saying Zeus is above traditional courtship, but I think in your case, to do the bed sport, you’ll need to a little…dance of seduction, shall we say.”

“Seduce towards what?”

Eros’ brow furrowed so deeply his eyes squinted in perplexity. “Toward pastries—what do you think we’re talking about?”

The moment it dawned on Ganymede’s face, he just as quickly darkened. “You and your mother both keep…keep…assuming that I want something, that Zeus wants something of me when he’s never made any sort of…declaration or advancement toward me.”

The furrow lifted and Eros gazed at him with new eyes. “I like to think of myself as an expert, but this requires an additional opinion. Come! Leave the book.”

Ganymede gaped at the youth springing to his feet and already sprinting out of the sandpit. “Where are we—I have to put this back!”

“Finish reading later!” Eros called back. “Living is more educational!”

Unable to deny the order of a god, Ganymede scrambled to his feet and ran after him. Checking to make sure he had the cupbearer in tow, Eros howled with laughter and led the way to the edge of the palace, toward the terraces of Dionysus. Ganymede recognized their destination because of the vines of grapes climbing up the pillars and the various trees standing sentinel on every corner. The god of wine preferred to live in a forest but with the finery of a palace so he had taken the liberties of customizing this wing to his needs.

The laughter and music of satyrs and nymphs began to trickle through the air, the marble giving way to carpets of grass and flowers beneath their feet. But when they turned the corner to the lounge that opened toward the terrace, it was far from a musical performance they found.

“Eros!” Dionysus greeted, his head perking up from between the legs of a nymph. “And the cupbearer! Lovely! These drunkards keep spilling my juices.”

Eros skipped into the room, plucking a flower from one of the shrubs to place in his ear. “He’s not here to serve, Dion, he’s here to observe. The rules of uncle’s house are more prudent than yours, so I thought a breath of fresh air would do him good.”

Dionysus laughed, “I can’t guarantee how fresh the air is down here.”

“Ah!” the nymph screamed indignantly, hitting him over the head. The result was knocking his mouth back onto her groin, to which he hummed with gratitude.

Ganymede stuck to Eros’ side as the latter popped grapes into his mouth. “What is he doing?”

“Licking, sucking, a little biting if she prefers,” Eros shrugged.

“Why?” Eros grimaced.

“Because if you do it long enough, she gets a very delicious feeling,” Eros chuckled.

“From biting?” Ganymede exclaimed in a whisper.

Eros’ hand wobbled in the air until he swallowed. “Different people, different likings. Don’t base the concept of sex on what nymphs like. They’re all a little…” His hand wiggled in the air even more, as if that was supposed to mean something.

Suddenly one of the satyrs collided with Eros’ side, hugging him around the middle while his hooves tramped an excited step on the floor. “Who’s he?” he chimed, looking Ganymede up and down.

“He’s Zeus’s,” Eros made by way of introduction. He moved his arm out of the way of the satyr’s small, curved horn points. “Watch what you do with those horns.”

“Why’s he not with Zeus?” the young satyr continued, craning his neck to ask Eros instead of the youth in question. This might have been for the better: Ganymede was noticing a trend in lack of personal space.

“Because our king is rusty on courtship tactics,” Eros teased. “He seems to think distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

The young, handsome face of the satyr scrunched in a grimace. “Did Athena knock some of his brains loose?”

Dionysus’ nymph shuddering and writhed, arresting Ganymede’s attention for a moment before he jerked his head back in Eros’ direction. The satyr noticed. “He’s never cum before. Why don’t we—”

Within an instant, Eros held the satyr at an arm’s length away from them. “Unless you want your head to decorate Hephaestus’ smithy, you won’t touch him. Understood?”

“Now, now,” Dionysus intervened, freed from his companion’s grip. He enveloped the satyr in a hug, deceptively holding him at bay and also bestowing his protection from Eros. “Forgive my little goat, he’s drunk. Then again, so is everyone else here. Shall we speak outside?”

This time Ganymede led the way under the arches and into the open air. “What’s this about?” Dionysus began.

Eros and Ganymede exchanged glances before the former explained, “It seems we all know our king’s baser nature except this one. How, when it comes to keeping a toga cinched tight, Zeus foregoes clothing altogether, if you understand?”

Dionysus guffawed as he drank…water, Ganymede noticed. “Sure, sure. I am a product of said ‘baser nature.’”

“I know he’s not loyal in that way to Hera,” Ganymede intercepted.

This time Eros and Dionysus shared a silent dialogue, to which the latter finished, “I understand. Let’s ignore Zeus for a moment and focus on you, then.”

Ganymede did not know how to feel under the scrutiny of Eros and Dionysus. First he was interacting with a sober god of wine and now he was discussing his knowledge of sex. All he’d wanted to do this morning was read.

“What do you think your phallus is for?” Dionysus commenced.

“That’s not fair,” Eros intervened. “It has many purposes.”

“A hint, then,” the former provided, “things other than urinating.”

“For…” Ganymede ventured warily, “making children.”

“Bravo,” Dionysus and Eros clapped. “But children are work. Children cry and scream and drool. They piss and shit just like adults but with more liberty.”

Eros peered at him from the side. “Don’t you have children?”

“And I love them as much as my grapes,” Dionysus pledged with a hand on his chest, “but I loved making them even more, which leads me to my next point: sex feels good.”

“Sex feels _great._ ” Eros seconded.

Dionysus pointed to Ganymede’s pelvis. “The making of children is your phallus’s last chore. It’s first priority is pleasure.”

“But not your own,” Eros reiterated.

“Oh no, no no no,” Dionysus grimaced in agreement. “Never your own. A thorough lover uses their prick for their partner. That’s why Zeus has a notorious reputation: he’s selfish. He’s a thousand year old, green boy when it comes to sex.”

“That’s not to say sex with him is bad,” Eros defended.

Dionysus amended, “We wouldn’t know, but the nymphs adore him.”

“When they can get him,” Eros laughed.

“He has been quite reclusive of late, hasn’t he?” Dionysus wondered aloud.

“Oh, we’re overwhelming him,” Eros noticed Ganymede’s blunt expression.

Dionysus ran a hand through his dark brown curls and nodded, “Right. Your phallus—”

“Could we not talk about mine?” Ganymede interrupted.

“If you can’t talk about it, you’re not ready to use it,” Dionysus countered gently.

“Who said I want to use it?” he uttered.

Both Eros’ and Dionysus’ jaws dropped. _“Why wouldn’t you?”_ they demanded.

“Hold on,” the latter waved a hand to silence the discussion. “We’re going about this all wrong. Tonight, perhaps in the bath or in your bed, put a hand between your legs and explore. Rub a little to get it standing, and do it as long as it feels good, make it feel too good, and then keep rubbing. You know you’ve done it right if fluid comes out. We will adjourn until you have more of an understanding of an orgasm.”

Ganymede appeared horrified. “Fluid?”

Dionysus grinned. “You must give a woman something to work with if she is to make a child. Just wipe it up and throw it with the washing.”

Eros nodded. “We would help you through the first one, but well…”

“We’d like to keep our hands,” the other finished for him.

“Or mouth, in your case,” Eros taunted.

“Indeed. I very much like my head, let’s keep it on.” He ruffled his hair again and peered around their view. “What a lovely day. Since we have until nightfall, what are your usual daily tasks?”

Ganymede considered that and answered, “Depending on the day… I must tidy the library and Zeus’s chambers.”

“Athena gets the perks too?” Dionysus scowled.

“No, she’s teaching me to read and,” he sent a mild but accusatory look at Eros, “we left her library in bit of a mess.”

“Careful,” Dionysus warned. “Once you know the letters, she’ll have you manage the entire place.”

Something unexpectedly heavy lifted in Ganymede’s chest. “I wouldn’t mind. I enjoy reading.”

“Ahh,” the god hummed through a smile. “Quite a little secretary, you are. Perhaps you can help me briefly.”

“What?” Eros followed behind them along the terrace and down a set of stairs to the floor below. “Dion, you still haven’t sorted those out?”

“Sort what out?” Ganymede asked as he found himself in Dionysus’ private quarters. It was not unlike the lounge upstairs, but much cleaner and empty apart from the three of them. The god certainly favored red and purple fabrics apart from his floral arrangements.

“I’ve tried to get my servants to do it, but—”

“Those satyrs are too drunk to clean their own assholes,” Eros scoffed. “How do you expect them to sort your seeds?”

“One would think they might share the same devotion to their drink as I do,” Dionysus sassed before directing their attention to a large table with a recessed surface so it was ultimately a massive dish full of tiny seeds. Thousands of seeds.

Ganymede’s eyes widened. “You…want me to sort these?”

“I take back what I said,” Eros chimed. “The satyrs aren’t drunk, they’re ingenious. Dion, you can’t expect anyone to willingly sort these. You yourself have put it off for so long, that’s why there are so many.”

“It’s not my fault there are so many different breeds of grape!” the god refuted, although he sounded quite proud about it. “The humans have begun this sort of cross-breeding practice with plants for sweeter or tarter grapes, a more bountiful harvest. It’s marvelous!”

“Fine, but this isn’t collecting, it’s hoarding,” Eros scolded. “Just plant them somewhere and place bets on how the wine will taste.”

Dionysus went from boisterously proud to stoic with thought. After a long moment he murmured, “What an idea. It’ll have my satyrs occupied for decades. I like it.”

Ganymede sent a grateful look to Eros, who winked behind Dionysus’ back. The owner of seeds uttered bluntly, “Don’t think I didn’t see that. Some friend you are, but bring him back once he’s done with his chores.”

“Am I your servant now?” Eros rebuked on their way up the stairs.

“If the hooves fit!” Dionysus called after him.

“What does he want with me?” Ganymede asked as they rushed through the rooms of dancing satyrs and nymphs before they pulled Eros back for pleasantries.

“Hard to say with Dion,” Eros considered. “But I know he is already planning the festivals for his City Dionysia.”

“What’s that?”

Eros laughed, some sort of dark humor threaded in it that he was not disclosing. “In a word: a treat. More elaborately, a few days in which plays are performed in our honor, or more specifically Dion’s. Theatre by day, wine by night, and Dion loves to sneak inside his own parties.”

“Are you going?” Ganymede asked as they returned to the library.

“Oh yes,” Eros grinned. “Wine breeds romance, after all. I’ll have my fun.”

“What is theatre?” Ganymede wondered. He had a broom in hand and was sweeping sand back into the pit. During Eros’ silence, he picked up the book he had been reading and shook out the sand as he noticed Eros’ dark green eyes on him.

“It’s story telling,” Eros responded after another moment. “It’s like reading your books, only having the story told to you, reenacted in front of your eyes.”

Ganymede’s hands twisted restlessly on the broom handle. “And it happens over several days?”

A wistful smile pulled at Eros’ mouth. “Oh yes.”

He watched Ganymede ponder that for a long while, and longer still as he recommenced his sweeping and the return of the book to its shelf. He told the cupbearer to return to the library after he had finished with Zeus’s rooms, which proved to be only minutes.

“You’re good,” Eros commended as Ganymede ran to him, his cheeks ruddy from exertion.

“I don’t want…” he breathed, “Dionysus waiting.”

Eros snorted a wet sound in the back of his throat as he waved the notion away. “If he can wait for fruit to ferment he can wait for you.”

“Thank you,” the youth replied as they turned in the right direction. This was not what Eros expected and he voiced as much.

“For what?”

“For waiting for me,” Ganymede smiled. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you to stay.”

This gave the god pause. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged as he retied his hair. “Because no one else would.” Eros was silent once more, causing Ganymede to peer at him. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he answered immediately. “I’m deciding whether you think ill of us or you’re just being honest.”

Ganymede halted where the columns of vines began. Eros pivoted to see him exclaim, “I didn’t mean any offen—”

“I know. That’s why I’ve decided on the latter,” he cut off. “I see why he admires you.”

Before Ganymede could think through that and reply, they were in Dionysus’ room and were encompassed in sound. A chorus of nymphs sang with the melodies of the satyrs’ lutes and lyres while the god himself beat upon a drum. The room was a buzzing with dancers and laughter, a livelier gathering than Zeus typically hosted. Ganymede found his place by the fountain on the far side of the room which was a four tiered structure where each basin was a wide shell. From the top poured rosé, and then white, followed by red, and then the bottom basin caught it all. The white and rosé blanched the red so the final solution was a powerful pink concoction in which everyone was dipping their goblets and cups. There was not a pitcher or carafe for the cupbearer to hold, so he found himself standing idly by the fountain.

He was watching Eros borrow one of the lyres to sway a nymph’s attentions when he was startled by someone uttering behind him, “You do know you’re a guest here?”

Ganymede clutched his chest to calm his heart rate. “My lord?”

“You’re Zeus’s cupbearer,” Dionysus surprised him, both in words and nudity. “You don’t have to pour for anyone but him.”

Ganymede kept his eyes on the god’s face. “The gods command me to.”

Dionysus smiled like he knew a secret as he leaned in to murmur for his ears alone, “They take advantage of your kindness.”

“My kindness?” Ganymede wondered. “It’s not my kindness they must impose on.”

That smile widened. “Yes it is,” he said with mirth in his voice. “He who fills the king’s cup is not to be trifled with.”

Ganymede stared at him and tried to gauge whether or not the wine god had partaken from his fountain. “If this is a jape, it is a cruel one. If I refuse anyone, they will drink from my hollowed skull.”

Dionysus threw his head back, guffawing to the ceiling the same time a lyre collided with his head. Ganymede flinched, ready to duck his head should any other instruments come flying, but Eros admitting to the action immediately. “Stop bullying him, Dion!” he yelled from across the room.

Fueled by his anger, the wine of the fountain spewed forth. The party members were hardly bothered and screamed with glee while Ganymede covered his ears against the deluge. The white of his trousers splattered with red to match his shirt.

“You piece of—” Dionysus bristled.

“Ambrosia,” Eros finished for him. “I know you wouldn’t dare insult me.”

“I’ll do more than that,” the other growled, coming toward him like a predator. It was in that moment that Ganymede heard a distinct rumble that was unlike any he had heard. Turning his head toward the sound, his hazel eyes widened on the large head of a creature rising from a relaxed position on the other side of the fountain. How he had failed to notice such a creature, he did not know: its fur was a unique shade of orange while its underbelly was white as the clouds and wonky stripes danced across its body. Its tail was nearly as long as its body as it prowled forward, passing by a statuesque Ganymede in order to join his master.

The cupbearer cast his wide eyes upward and pointed down at the creature, whose tail flicked and brushed his trouser leg in passing. “What is this?” he whispered.

Eros heard him and Dionysus followed his cousin’s gaze before resting a hand on that large beast’s head. “That’s his tiger,” the former introduced. “Just as naughty as his owner.”

“Did you think my animal familiar was my grapes?” Dionysus chuckled, the tension diffusing. The tiger groaned again, that rumbling voice resonating again as he tilted his head for his master to scratch along his ears.

Eros came around to stand with Ganymede. “He has a thing for cats. There should be a cheetah somewhere around here…she’s probably hunting mother’s doves again.”

Eros simply held his hand out, and the tiger turned tail and came to his touch. “Traitor,” Dionysus growled, but not angrily. He fell amongst the cushions and nymphs lounging on the floor as Ganymede felt himself pushed with the weight of the tiger leaning into him. He quickly obliged with scratches along his neck, giving attention to every place the animal directed until his weight overcame Ganymede and he slumped on the floor with the tiger atop him.

“Traitor,” Dionysus uttered again as his tiger rolled on its back, simultaneously heavy on Ganymede’s legs and opening his body for scratches.

Eros’ lower lip puckered as his eyebrows lifted in assessment. “You’ve got a way with beasts. Don’t expect a wild animal to give its throat to you easily.”

“Ah!” Dionysus cried, rolling over to bury his face in a surprised nymph’s lap. “Traitor!”

“Only because you’re so annoying,” Eros rebuked. Looking back down at Ganymede, he declared, “You can probably leave any time…if you can get up.”

The youth was busy giggling as the tiger licked his face, an attempt at camaraderie grooming but thoroughly mussing Ganymede’s hair. With the newfound company, he did not mind the music and festivities. It was only when a lithe, speckled feline that must be the cheetah entered from the terrace, that Ganymede realized that hours had passed and it was now twilight. The tiger rose from his lap to rejoin his companion as Ganymede stood as well—

Heat flushed between his shoulder blades, jarring him with the summons of a king. Ganymede looked to Dionysus and Eros, the latter of whom waved farewell to him from where he played his lyre…the former was busy in a nymph’s lap and did not notice him leave.

Ganymede knew where to go, and soon bowed deeply in Zeus’s private bath. “My king.”

There was the slight rustle of water in the air as he heard, “Join me, Gany.”

Straightening, Ganymede found that Zeus had not turned to look at him. The tone of his voice was fatigued, his knuckles pressed to his lips in thought. Ganymede was pushing his trousers off when he realized he could not be naked in front of the god. Righting his raiment, he kneeled behind Zeus in the bath and reached for the soap, but when he dipped it into the water for suds, the god did not move. “My king?”

Zeus inhaled sharply. “Yes…” he voiced as if coming out of a reverie. “Attend me—”

He looked on either side of him but did not find Ganymede in the water with him and turned around to cast a bewildered look upon the cupbearer’s appearance. “What happened to you?”

Ganymede’s laugh suspended Zeus’s anger as he touched his mess of hair. “I met Dionysus’ tiger…and there was a mishap with the wine fountain. He didn’t seem to mind, though.”

Zeus’s fatigue faded into a warm smile. “No, he wouldn’t, would he? Come here.”

Ganymede opened his mouth to speak but Zeus’s arms were already closed around his waist, pulling him into the water. Ganymede felt the god’s face press into his chest for the briefest of moments before he was set down and Zeus turned around for him to wash his back. Ganymede’s fingers slid over the darker crescents of skin in the wake of the soap, feeling the indentions of scar tissue before pushing the soap up his neck. Zeus’s head obligingly tipped forward, expanding his nape as Ganymede lathered soap for his hair.

“Was Apollo and Hermes’ competition that tiresome?” he ventured.

Zeus’s shoulders lifted in a single laugh, as if he was surprised by his own mirth. “No, love. I would have preferred to listen to their music all day. They always start in competition and end in harmonizing together. No…I was wrong. Pallas is dead.”

Ganymede’s fingers paused in the thick tresses. “Dead?”

Zeus answered by lifting his head so far he leaned back on Ganymede, who removed his hands so he could take the god’s weight. Zeus reclined into him and Ganymede combed the hair off his forehead. “I spoke too soon…the strife between Poseidon and Athena is deeper than I imagined, and I’ve forgotten how ruthless my brother can be.”

“What happened?” Ganymede asked, his fingers continuing to comb Zeus’s hair back in lazy pulls.

“Pos created an adversary Athena could not defeat. Herself.”

Ganymede’s fingers slowly stopped. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly.

Zeus inhaled deeply and said, “Pallas and Athena played together as children, trained together… Pallas is Poseidon’s granddaughter. I never thought that he would use her.”

“Why would he?” Ganymede wondered. “Is his pride that fragile?”

Zeus was quiet for a moment as he contemplated that. “He wanted to draw the score even. He planted an idea in Pallas’s head to challenge Athena to various athletic challenges…however this drew an audience. Even in her human form, the humans recognized such skill could only belong to a certain goddess. Their duel escalated into an accident but the deed was done. Athena killed her and now even the wisest of gods is known to make mistakes.”

Ganymede scooped water over Zeus’s hair. “How is Athena?”

“Grieving, as expected. She’s made a structure in Pallas’s honor…”

Slender but strong arms folded over his chest as Ganymede embraced him. “I’m sorry for your grand-niece. Will Hades take care of her?”

Zeus blinked, caught off-guard by the consoling words. A mirthless puff of air escaped him as his hands closed over Ganymede’s. “I’m sure. Hades never cared for our squabbles, and he is good about treating the members of his kingdom equally. Pallas is in good hands. Now tell me about this wine fountain incident.”

Leaving out the detail of Eros’ involvement, Ganymede told him how Dionysus made the wine surge from the spouts because a lyre was thrown at his head. Tension removed, Zeus’s laughter boomed across the water. The air in Ganymede’s lungs was jarringly pushed out with each heave of laughter from the god on him. When Zeus settled down, one of his hands fell under the water to Ganymede’s bare ankle. For a long moment, his fingers encircled the joint, feeling how the shin narrowed to the bulb of anklebone and then sloped over the top of his foot.

Then he pulled on the cinched hem of the pant leg, his power extending the fabric to a proper length to accommodate his growth spurt. Ganymede’s weight shifted behind him. “That isn’t necessary, I don’t mind.”

As if he had not heard him, Zeus said, “I’ll have Athena weave new garments for you. She could use the distraction.”

Trying not to sound rushed, Ganymede voiced, “Something lighter? Summer is coming, my king.”

“You’ll need the protection from longer hours of sunlight,” the king disregarded.

“Most of the palace is covered—” he tried but Zeus pivoted to face him.

“Gany,” he silenced. Suddenly the weight was gone and he was rising out of the bath. Ganymede briefly followed the scars only to tear his eyes back to the water’s surface. He did not need to see the god disappear—

“Come.”

His head whirled around, shocked to find the king tying his floor length toga, giving him time to get out of the bath. Ganymede ducked into the water, rushing his hands through his hair to rinse it and then lumbered over the edge. He gave the legs and waist of his clothing a twist to rid it of water and moved carefully over the floor. Upon entering his rooms, Ganymede took a slow burning oil lamp kept near the entrance and went around the room, lighting the tapers standing on the sconces.

The wind was calm tonight, the drapery around the room fluttering like afterthoughts. Ganymede set the lamp down where his room branched off and returned to make sure the ornate table beside the king’s bed was laden with anything he could need. A dish of various sweets was covered by a glass bell, the small, glass carafe of nectar was full and Ganymede went ahead and filled a cup as he followed Zeus to where he stood on the balcony—

“Ough!” he cried, caught on one of the many carpets in the room. By some turn of irony, he managed to land on his stomach with the cup barely spilt, but the carafe crashed. Glass and nectar sprayed across the terrace, the furthest drops touching Zeus’s heels.

Eyes wide like the moon above them, Ganymede foundered to his feet but the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I’m,” he choked, “sorry, I'll…clean…”

“No no no.” Zeus caught him where he swayed on his feet and held him steady. One of his hands gestured to the spill, and Ganymede cringed. He had not spilled a single drop in years, could not recall ever _breaking_ anything…

“Look,” Zeus exclaimed, catching Ganymede off guard. He followed the line of his hand but did not understand, and he said as much. “Do you see the way the light rests on it?” Zeus elaborated. “It appears almost like…milk.”

Suddenly he let go of Ganymede and gesturing in the air as if he wanted to scoop the nectar up, and throw it into the sky. Thing is, he did exactly that. Off the floor the nectar flew, arching as he dictated and shooting so far Ganymede could not see it anymore until the seamless dark blue, only broken by the ombre horizon, was alight with a long splotch of lighter blues and violets. The linear cloud bloomed and grew, twinkling with more stars than ever.

“HA HA!” Zeus beamed, just as quickly hoisting Ganymede off his feet and swinging him in celebration. “The humans will wonder, and let them!”

All Ganymede could do was throw his arms around Zeus’s neck and hold on. “Do you see it, Gany?” Zeus beckoned as he adjusted Ganymede’s position. Lifting him so he saw clear over the god’s head, Zeus’s arm curled under his rear, a makeshift seat.

“Yes,” the youth gasped, holding tight.

“Is that all?” Zeus guffawed, gazing up at him expectantly. “Does it need more? More color? Or too many stars?”

“Um,” Ganymede peeked at the sky but this was not his area of expertise. “It’s fine…you’re not angry?”

“I’m euphoric,” Zeus returned as he surveyed his work. “I forgot how much I enjoyed painting the sky. How it became a habit to mark the sky in honor of sorrows, I’ll never know, but it ends tonight. Are my pigments still in the chest?”

“By the bed? Yes, my king.”

Zeus’s gaze left the heavens and locked with Ganymede’s. “Do you remember when we painted together?”

“When you painted,” Ganymede corrected. “I was never skilled at it.”

“Nonsense.” Zeus carried him back inside. “You only considered yourself a more usable surface than the floor…you thought of yourself a more useful brush as well.”

“There is still blue pigment in the mortar of the floor…” Ganymede grumbled.

Zeus smiled as he set him down and opened the large chest at the foot of the bed. Covered jars of pigments rested underneath a mess of brushes and scrolls of canvas or paper. “Let’s add a bit more,” the king announced, promptly upending a jar of orange. The powders needed to be mixed with either an egg yolk or oil base but Ganymede watched as Zeus switched from pouring them out to outright smashing them on the areas of mosaic floor. Puffs of blue and violet wafted in the air, sticking to the water in his clothes. Like sands of dead stars and dried tears of rainbows they fell, and slithered over the king’s foot as he pushed through them. His fingers reached for Ganymede, sliding over his scalp to push his hair back. Ganymede bowed his head to him as the king pulled the leather thong from the youth’s wrist and bound the hair.

“Show me the tiger.”

Ganymede looked up inquiringly, to which Zeus reiterated, “Mold the colors to show me your day. How did wine spray from the fountain? What colors bloom in your mind when you remember Dionysus’s rooms? Show me.”

Ganymede blinked and looked around them, finding the orange. He bent for it, but realized it was wrong. Scooping the orange, he brought it over to the yellow, and then the red, trying to mix the right color of burnt warmth that was the fur. There was not any black, so he made the violet darker with blue. The closest to white was an incredibly light turquoise, but as he crafted the animal, Zeus sat beside him and threw pigment over it in sharp streaks, giving a better illusion of fur. The stripes were difficult because they were unlike anything Ganymede had ever seen, but Zeus sat partially behind him and leaned forward to add them himself.

“And the wine?” he insisted afterward. “How did it overflow?”

Ganymede gripped a handful of red that had mixed with the purple and threw it across the floor. “What do wolves look like?” he returned.

The corner of Zeus’s mouth turned up and he went about creating it. Next Ganymede crafted columns and threw green for the vines of green growing around them, and then Zeus made a vision of night fading into dawn, and somewhere amongst all of the color, Ganymede fell asleep.

He awoke to the touch of fingers playing with his ear, unconsciously tugging on his earlobe and sliding along the pinna, inhabiting the sensitive space behind his ear. His eyes opened to find Zeus sitting above him, but staring far away. The sun was rising, casting the room in varying shades of violet from where Ganymede saw it on Zeus’s thigh. The king’s leg was stretched out for him to lie upon, his other leg poised for his arm to rest on.

“You didn’t sleep?” he mumbled, clumsily rising.

Zeus turned to him as if he had not expected him to wake this early. He helped him up with a hand on his head and neck, but only so far as to pull him forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t sleep,” he answered softly, before looking once more toward the terrace and sky.

The sudden press of soft flesh between his brows left Ganymede dazed in the dawn haze, but his eyes slowly looked toward the massive bed. Zeus answered as if hearing his thoughts. “It is a silly, materialistic desire of mine, I know. Many believe a frame of wood or marble, a soft place to land is home.”

Ganymede turned that over in his mind, reading his king’s demeanor as he ventured, “Something replaceable doesn’t make a good home, does it?”

Zeus looked at him then with the same wide eyes Athena had when she was unexpectedly astonished. His gaze softened as he nodded. “It doesn’t make a home at all. Such visceral things are far more complex.”

He pushed the cowlicks off of Ganymede’s face. “May I trim this? I can barely see you.”

 _I’ve never seen the great Zeus apologize to anyone._ Did the same apply to asking?

Ganymede banished these thoughts and nodded. The hands went through his hair, only this time he felt soft tresses tumble down his neck and saw them land in his lap. The familiar length of hair that dusted his brows was easily swept back, the waves of his hair hooking together to stay in place. His chestnut lashes lifted to find a warm smile upon him. “I did miss you,” Zeus said.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Ganymede felt the need to be closer, ached for it as one thirsts for water. Zeus’s eyes followed the path of Ganymede’s hand between his thighs, where the youth leaned in order to face him and pick at his toga; the excuse of adjusting his raiment to be closer. “You say that like you’re going to leave again.”

“No,” Zeus hummed, his hand finding a place in the bend of Ganymede’s waist. He watched with mild interest and amusement the hands plucking at his lightly dyed fabric: the grey of an overcast sky. Any other god would gawk at the notion of wearing such a drab color, but the gift from Athena made his eyes pop, made the brown of his hair as dark as a summer's evening despite the winter of his gaze…without the stains of multicolored pigment. “Humans need a break from immortal intervention. Do you mind taking care of this king again?”

“Of course not,” Ganymede groaned.

“Are you sure?” Zeus teased, leaning forward to rub his stubble against Ganymede’s face. “I remember being high maintenance.”

“Mm!” Ganymede exclaimed, his face scrunching against the insistent scrubbing of beard. “Is this necessary?”

“I just want you to be thoroughly sure of the company you’ll be keeping,” Zeus replied, the very voice of innocence.

“Have I ever voiced complaints?” A palm found its way on Zeus’s face and pushed.

Laughing, Zeus leaned back and said more somberly, “Hera wishes to spend the morning with me, but I must make myself presentable. Afterward, sweep what you can, but do not slave over it.”

Ganymede rose and followed him to the bath, where he simply sponged away the color from Zeus’s limbs and redressed him in a crimson toga before shaving. They would have matched but they parted ways and Ganymede used the bath before dressing in his customary pale linens and swept the bedroom floor.

Eventually he made his way to Athena’s library, but the goddess was absent. In her place, he found Eros playing his lyre for the water nymphs on the ledge of the sandpit. The water swirled around his ankles as he greeted Ganymede with a smile—and immediately frowned at how he bowed at the waist. “Good morning, my lord.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You and I weathered both the temper and smut of Dionysus. That creates a unique bond. Don’t pass off our time together as that of a master and servant.”

Ganymede stared at him, totally at a loss. “I’m sorry,” he said after a time.

“As you should be,” Eros completed and patted the area next to him. Ganymede obediently sat next to him, but not before Eros noticed the array of color on his toes. “Mind explaining?”

“Zeus remembered he had painting powders,” he provided.

Eros’ eyes lit up. “Oh, and how were the artistic endeavors of the flesh?”

Ganymede indignantly blushed, averting his gaze as he responded. “There weren’t any.”

 _“Why ever not?”_ demanded Dionysus, suddenly appearing on Ganymede’s other side. He dropped down onto the ledge, his feet entering the pond with a splash. He had clearly just risen from bed if his wiry curls were any indication. Ganymede glanced down at the splash but observed the fist-width of space separating him from the gods who sandwiched him.

“There wasn’t a chance. I was occupied all night. His majesty doesn’t sleep.”

Dionysus scoffed as he rubbed sleep from his own eyes. “With so much time together you should have just asked for his assistance.”

Eros leaned forward to fix his cousin in a frown. “Why are you even up so early?”

“Today is the anniversary of my mother’s birth. It’s not enough that I stole her from the underworld and brought her up here, inciting the wrath of Hera—she demands my presence during this day every year. Speaking of, I should be going.”

“Your mother is here?” Ganymede hindered. “Why haven’t I seen her?”

“You have,” Dionysus corrected. “My cheetah. I couldn’t very well bring a former lover of Zeus up here, but today she can walk on two feet.”

Ganymede suspected it was Zeus’s suggestion to spend the morning with his wife instead of vice versa. He smiled, “Wish her good tidings for me.”

Dionysus was standing but he paused. “Tell her yourself. Eros, you coming?”

Eros feigned disinterest as he asked, “Will she make that vanilla custard thing?”

Dionysus glared at him through eyes at half-mast. “You’re asking a former princess to bake for you?”

“Semele loves me,” Eros snorted as he stood.

Ganymede trailed after them while Dionysus warned, “If any of your arrows so much as make an appearance, you’ll find one shoved where you can’t reach.”

The events of the previous day had been entirely transformed into a setting of cushions around platters of food and carafes of juice and water. On one of the larges cushions lounged the elegant cheetah, whose head lolled to attention. Dionysus pointed to a folded pile of fabric on the floor, which Ganymede bent to retrieve, but when he turned back around, a shockingly beautiful woman rested upon the cushion. Naked and ripe, she looked hardly older than her son, but a spinning image of him. They shared the same long but slim physique, delicate cheekbones and slanted eyes, but her hair was the same tawny blond of her feline coat.

“Finally,” she yawned. Her voice was husky from disuse. Her son rolled his eyes as he flapped open the large, sapphire blue blanket and swung it around her shoulders.

“Try not to burn your cat tongue,” he sassed, settling down adjacent to her and lifting the silver lid off of a steaming pot. A mushroom of steam rushed toward the ceiling as Eros beckoned Ganymede over to sit around the food. Breathing in the scents of succulent broth, fire grilled vegetables and seeing the dripping skewers of meat still sizzling alongside caramelized desserts, Ganymede realized he was starving. He found himself sitting across from the woman who wound and tied the fabric so her hands could be free. He noticed she filled a bowl of stew and just as quickly crowded a plate with sweets, however she ate the latter first while her soup cooled.

Eros was invested in the skewers. Ganymede watched as he pushed everything off of the stick and organized meat from fish from peppers from onions from tomatoes on his plate. He ate every piece in whatever order he chose, and then did it all over again with a new skewer.

Dionysus liked to drink the entirety of the broth in his bowl before picking at the assorted noodles, vegetables, and meat left over. Similar to his mother, he separated bowls of soup with bites of yogurt and honey or berry tarts. So long denied her thumbs, she doted on him, wiping broth from his chin and refilling his soup bowl as he nibbled on fruit.

Given the lack of strict etiquette, Ganymede ate a tart, and then nearly filled up on skewers, which he unloaded on the pitta bread with tzatziki sauce, and then finished with a block of baklava. He was content with listening to the conversation that passed between the immortals. Semele never inquired who Ganymede was; far from it, she engaged with him over his choice in sauce, the story behind his colorful feet, and relished his freedom of speech with Dionysus and Eros.

“A breath of fresh air after those goats,” she concluded, ruffling her son’s hair with immense fondness. Ganymede grinned about it all the way back to his bed that night. He fell unconscious with the memories of laughter and the sight of a mother holding her son’s hand before resting her feline head on his lap.

Ganymede dreamed of walking alongside her as a cheetah, of a mother’s hands in his own, but whenever he looked down he saw only her paws and fur. He dreamed of racing with Eros, but some dreams were clearer than others. Ganymede knew it was Eros even though he did not have the same blond hair that he sometimes braided out of the way. They ran along the bobbing docks where ships’ bells sang and seagulls screamed for fishermen’s catches.

“Don’t step on the nails!” Eros called behind him, faster than Ganymede and never winded. “You’ll tear your feet!”

“Feet…” he heard himself say, looking down to navigate around the nail heads sticking out of the salt-stained wood turned grey from sun and sea. Not like the wood here…rich of grain and varying shades of red, brown, even white…

At the last millisecond Ganymede saw the nail…but it did not feel as he had expected. Far from pain, the sensation spurred him to run faster, to get away, get away before he could no longer stand…

“Naaah!” he cried, startling awake and kicking away from whatever was attacking his feet under his blanket—

Zeus caught his ankle and held firm, though a smug smile adorned his face. Ganymede breathed heavily as his feet were set down on the god’s lap and the sponge scraped once more over the soles. “I’m sorry. My means were not to frighten you.”

He watched as Zeus scrubbed a blue toe and then the purple of his ankle. He was hardly bothered as the colored water ran off into his toga. Ganymede rubbed sleep from his eyes as he asked, “M’king, am I late for something?”

“Only the proper cleansing of your feet,” Zeus teased. He continued the scrupulous washing of Ganymede’s feet, holding fast when the limbs jerked against his sponge.

“It tickles,” Ganymede defended when Zeus pinned him with a lifted brow. Far from using a firm hand to press through the tickling sensation, he lightened his touch, silver eyes glinting as he watched Ganymede squirm.

“Stop it—stop it! You’re doing that on purpose!” he accused.

“Oh? And how do you intend to stop me?” Zeus purred.

Ganymede’s foot slipped out of his grasp and the arch of his foot pressed against Zeus’s thigh, poised to push him away. God and man gazed at one another, the other expectant and the other glaring. Zeus still held the other foot, and began to drag his thumbnail from the heel, up the arch, and over the sensitive pads.

“GAH! Stop it!” Ganymede flailed. He sprang up and launched himself at Zeus, colliding with his wide frame and shoving him to the floor. 

Ganymede landed on top of him but the king guffawed as he wrapped an arm around the contrarily slim torso and bodily lifted Ganymede off of him. Dropping him back on the bed on his stomach, Zeus merely leaned over him, pinning him down with an elbow betwixt his shoulder blades as he grabbed Ganymede’s ankle and lifted. The youth squawked against the stretched in the front of his thigh. His fingers clawed at the material of his bedding as Zeus leaned further over him, close enough to kiss his cheek and murmur, “Try again.”

“I ca—” he coughed raggedly. Ganymede scrambled but his movements were moot attempts. “I can’t! I ca…can’t breathe.”

Zeus’s eyes widened and his weight was off immediately. “And now?” he asked, but Ganymede whirled around and launched again. Taken more by surprise this time, Zeus fell backward. His cupbearer straddled his hips as he pinned the god down, palms splayed over his collarbone. Zeus caught him around the waist, his wide eyes observing Ganymede’s flushed cheeks and rushed breathing. “I thought you couldn’t breathe?”

“I couldn’t,” he huffed, his spine bowing and lifting as his chest rose and fell. “You’re really heavy.”

A smile returned to the king’s face, blooming and wide enough squint his eyes. Ganymede’s open fingers rubbed his stubble with enough force to move his flesh, dislodging that smug expression. “You need a shave again—ah!”

Zeus leaned up to bury his face in the sensitive crevice of his neck, nuzzling a newly squawking Ganymede. Exclamations turned to giggles and he fell limply back. Zeus’s pursuit of his laughter extended to other parts of his torso, and his hands wandered to Ganymede’s waist. Pushing his shirt up, Zeus blew raspberries across the smooth plains of his torso, slim but sculpted from carrying his weight in nectar and ambrosia.

His jaw climbed up to Ganymede’s sternum, and the youth felt the tingling heat of those hands ascend alongside his ribcage—

“I need to clean the library!” he exclaimed, causing Zeus’s head to perk up. Ganymede’s mouth worked on its own. “The nymphs get bored throughout the night and…sometimes things are out of place in the morning.”

“Then it’s Athena’s problem,” Zeus countered.

“But,” Ganymede pushed. “You told me to ease her pain…to distract her. Kind things are distracting from bad things.”

Zeus shook his head with a final laugh and nodded. “Fine, fine. Go, then. I’ll manage my own appearance today.”

Ganymede rose to his feet while discretely pulling his shirt over the scars on his back. Once he was out of the room, he made haste toward the library, glad for once to see the sand pits in disarray and books floating in the pond. The waters were only deep enough to submerge his bellybutton, making the collection of books easy. The immortal women slithered around him, welcoming and singing as they chatted.

“Where have you been, young one?”

“Did you bring those other two with you today?”

“The blond one sings so sweetly. He’s the only one who sings with us.”

“That’s not true. Dionysus does when he’s drunk enough.”

“Or sober enough. He sings better sober.”

“Wine sweetens the throat, sister.”

“And your legs.”

“You give the impression you make these messes just to be noticed,” Ganymede interrupted. “The only one who will notice is Athena.”

“That’s not true.” A nymph with hair as long as she was and hair as red as Zeus’s baths smiled. Despite some of the palace murals depicting nymphs with skin as pale as milk, the sun kissed their skin to a robust brown. “You notice. And His Majesty notices you.”

“Will he come today?” a naiad with black hair fanning behind her asked.

“He used to visit us,” another seconded as she swam out of Ganymede’s way.

“Decades ago,” another sang.

“Before you,” the copper haired one chimed beside him, even handing him a book. He added it to the pile in his arms and pulled the stem of a water lily out of it.

“Thank you. I’m not that old,” he countered.

“Yes you are,” the black haired one said, idly swimming on her back along his other side. Her breasts swelled over the water’s surface, small but enough so her body was a terrestrial shore for the water to lap over. “Even the gods keep time.”

Ganymede, his breath heavier from striding through the water, paused. “How so?”

A blond nymph with shorter hair and more freckles than bare flesh swam over to a patch of lily pads. This water was bare before you came. Athena was…shall we say, the stone which sharpens the blade.”

Copper hair swirled around her waist as the other nymph drifted a hand over the green medallions. “But a little cupbearer remembered the way lilies swam in another palace.”

“A little cupbearer cried because he missed their pink petals,” the blond agreed, sniffing the blushed limbs of a flower.

“Who would have thought the goddess had a lyre in place of a heart,” another said. “Or how a sweet boy was the one to pluck its strings.”

“This one was first,” the blond narrated, drifting away from the pink blossom and moving on to a white. “And then this…and this…”

Ganymede clutched the books and did not so much count the flowers, but the masses of green and color left a heavy impression in his mind…and he knew it was wrong. His feet and ankles brushed against countless stems, his clothing moved against the edges of pads and petals that covered nearly half of the massive pond. The lilies swayed with the ripples of water, growing not to nature’s dictations but with Athena’s diligence toward numbers and the counting of his years.

“Now see…you’ve made him upset.”

Ganymede emerged from his thoughts, his eyes burning. His chin itched and he realized tears were dangling there, and others were sliding down to meet them. With clumsy haste, he tried to wipe his tears on the books’ edges. “I don’t understand…why do I feel like there shouldn’t be this many? Why do I feel…”

His head lifted to find the three of them standing before him. A nut brown hand was reaching for him, but it halted in the air, as if a barrier separated it and him. Ganymede met the nymph’s eyes, and saw the mistake there before she blinked and it was gone. Her hand lowered to rest in the water.

“More men would trade all they have for your position, young one,” she uttered.

More tears raced over his face, unbidden but persistent. “Except I am older than they are. Aren’t I? But how do I know that? Why do I have memories I shouldn’t?”

One of the others placed the final book on his pile. “Because a mind spent among men rusts…but a mind spent with the gods never dulls.”

“You remember what it means to be a boy among men…”

“Because you are a man among gods—”

“Water is considered the loudest of elements,” came another voice, larger and deeper than the nymphs’.

They whirled around, breaking the tranquility of the pond as they startled at Dionysus on the water’s edge. He stepped forward, sinking into the pond. With the speed of water snakes, they swam back, retreating under the shadow of lily pads. Dionysus’ robe, dyed the same color as his darkest wines, splayed behind him. Ganymede’s head bowed lower and lower as the god approached, the wake of his steps rocking blooms out of his way. The young man’s head rested on the books when he heard the water stop moving. He felt the tails of the robe curl around his own waist as he waited for the god to say something.

Instead, he felt the faintest of touches on his hair. Jerking up, Ganymede’s swollen eyes witnessed Dionysus smile softly. The god took the pile of books from him and turned back around. “Let’s get these dry before darling sister awakes.”

Ganymede climbed out after him and paused when Dionysus did. The latter waved his hand and Ganymede felt the water rush out of his raiment. “I don’t know where these go,” he declared. “So after you.”

Ganymede’s chin jerked in a nod and together they returned the books to their places, each tome dry by the time it rested on a shelf. When the last one passed from Dionysus’ hands into Ganymede’s, the youth placed it on the shelf only to find a hand waving him to a new place. “Come along. Mother will like your company again.”

He knew that was not why Dionysus was doing this, and as if summoned in a way only the gods could manage, Eros was waiting when they arrived in the garden of a room. Standing from the divan, he gulped the contents of his glass and held it out to Ganymede, who blinked at him. From somewhere in his brain, he wondered if Eros chose his human form for him, because he had grown to stand even with Ganymede.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Eros insisted. “I’m a god. I don’t know how to pour things.”

A smile cracked on Ganymede’s face and a laugh made his shoulders lurch. Reaching up, his hand closed around the goblet, just above Eros’, who did not release it immediately. It was as close as they could touch, and Ganymede felt the god’s heat radiate through the metal into his own hand while those green eyes held his. Ganymede nodded, understanding, and Eros released it for filling.

“So I’m thinking of something for my festivals,” Dionysus announced, falling with a flourish across his cushions. Semele the cheetah purred loudly from her place in the windowsill.

“Thinking? Terrifying,” Eros jeered with a wink to Ganymede by the wine fountain. When the cup was filled he patted the divan next to him for Ganymede to sit with him. Apparently Dionysus was serious about attending his own festival this year, and since Eros usually joined him this required joint planning. Preparations gave way to memories of previous years, and soon the morning was forgotten. Ganymede laughed until his cheeks hurt, eating the grapes and seared fish brought by the satyrs as Eros and Dionysus reenacted the drunken version of a dance that had happened some years past.

“Imagine someone as hairy as Poseidon but incapable of handling his drink,” Dionysus prompted. Throwing his arm around Eros, they marched into a song as they stumbled against each other. The tavern ballad was of course lost on Ganymede but seeing the gods performing and actually singing quite well made him understand the allure of City Dionysia a bit better.

The tiger’s head rested on his lap as the sinking sun brought the appearance of more satyrs and a number of woodland nymphs who usually looked after Dionysus’ vineyards.

“I trust my sister to the upkeep of my vines at night,” Dionysus answered when Ganymede wondered who kept the gardens after dark. “She is more nocturnal than us and enjoys hunting the pests who would otherwise ruin my grapes.”

Ganymede had only met Artemis once and did not dare voice how he would like to never meet her again. She was a predator where her twin brother was an artist. They both shined just as bright but where Apollo’s power was hot as the sun, hers was as cold as the moon’s place in the sky.

“Up you get!” Dionysus suddenly ushered, waving Ganymede forward. “Hold onto this shawl and do as we do.”

They held opposite ends of the fabric while Eros and satyrs complete the circle with their own shawls. The dance was easy, and heavily dependent on the music playing. Their steps were in time to the escalating melody as their circle revolved faster and faster. More than anything, Ganymede became aware of the power between them, how he was pulled along but each of them was a link in a chain. Together with the music they were strong, but if anyone stepped out of tempo they would break. Laughter and music was loud in his ears as his arms lifted, raised with everyone else’s over his head and causing his shirt hem to rise…just as Zeus entered.

Lightning thrashed across the ceiling as thunder roared over the music. Marble and stone crumbled. Metal cups crumpled like paper as Satyrs and nymphs cowered into corners; some managed to flee. Eros dropped to one knee, his head bowed while Dionysus took a similar posture. Ganymede plummeted to his knees, bowing so low his nose was to the tiled floor. Zeus’s voice rattled in his ears, unrecognizable.

 _“I HEAR MERRIMENT AND THIS IS WHAT I FIND?”_ he roared. _“WHO TOUCHED HIM?”_

Dionysus’ brows twitched in a frown as he and Eros exchanged a brief glance. The former voiced, “Father, we took great lengths to make sure no one touched him. Even if they did, it was but a dance—”

 _“BE SILENT.”_ The air crackled with cords of lightning as he approached. _“DO YOU THINK I AM BLIND TO THE MADNESS OF YOUR DANCES? YOU CALL IT ECSTACY BUT YOU INFLICT IT IDLY AND CARELESSLY!”_

Ganymede’s shriek went unheard as a bolt caused plaster, greenery, and marble to rain over his head. _“DO YOU BELIEVE ME BLIND? HIS SHROUD IS GONE! WHO TOUCHED HIM?”_ the king demanded.

_N-N-No one, k-k-king…_

Zeus’s shining eyes locked onto the form on the floor, so low and flattened as if to sink right through it. Even now, his shirt was ridden up to reveal the different shades of streaked skin there. Ganymede trembled so strongly his shirt was inching its way back over the claws of scar tissue, but his terror was not what silenced Zeus’s thunder. It was his prayers.

_They didn’t…they didn’t touch me, my king…please, d-don’t h-hurt…don’t k-k-k-ill them!_

His plea was quiet but reverberated throughout Zeus’s mind, silencing all other voices. _No one touched me. No one touches me. I swear, my king. Please d-don’t be angry with me. P-Please d-don’t h-ha-hate me. Eros and Dionysus are good to me. Th-They d-don’t ignore me, they don’t ask anything of me. Please, my king, don’t be angry…_

When Zeus touched his head, he jerked as if touched by an electric shock and trembled anew. Ganymede had never shied from his touch…

“Don’t, Gany,” he whispered, but the light brown hair trembled. He somehow managed to press himself even closer to the floor. “You’ve never swayed from my touch. Don’t start now. Don’t start now…it will destroy me.”

The last words traveled on a breath for his ears only. The next were louder and not to be questioned: “Get out. Except for you three.”

Ganymede heard the clatter of hooves and feet as satyrs and nymphs rushed out. His breathing became more erratic when Zeus's open palm cradled his throat, gently urging him to sit up. His vision had too many tears in it to see Eros or Dionysus, but their blurry figures were bent in their original postures, not daring to move in front of the kneeling king himself. Zeus took up most of his sight, his hand keenly feather-light as he wiped fluid from his face. Those silver eyes were bruised by the panic and sorrow they witnessed.

“How long have you been hiding from me?” he asked. Ganymede’s eyes wandered as if seeking a place he did not inhabit. He wanted a dark place to hide his swollen, flushed and wet face and all of his scars. Zeus insisted, “Who took it, Gany? Who removed the shroud?”

Fresh tears slid down Ganymede’s cheeks. “Is that all that bothers you?” he sobbed. “That someone else put a hand on me?”

Like the final moment before a wax figurine succumbs to heat, Zeus’s sharp features softened. “No, of course it isn’t." His hands delicately roamed Ganymede's face, catching his tears. "It bothers me that someone came close enough to harm you; that someone frightened you enough to keep this from me.”

Ganymede’s voice cracked. “Anyone can hurt me…they don’t need t-to touch me to… Why have you forbidden people from touching me at all?”

His arms curled into his chest, instinctively wanting to cradle the cavity inside himself. “You jape about my not wanting you…” hiccup, “but how couldn’t I when you’re the only one who will touch me? No one touches me, even the one who removed it. Everyone is too afraid. I…I don’t understand…” he wept. “But I _need_ it…”

His cries were muffled against the fabric of Zeus’s garment when the god scooped him up and rocked him protectively on his lap. “I don’t understand…” he sobbed.

“I shouldn’t have denied you something so vital,” Zeus purred, tucking Ganymede under his chin. “Simple…though vital. Touch is as important as water. Perhaps I thought I was enough.”

Ganymede sniffled. “But why did you cover it at all? I was the last one to know about the scars, everyone else…”

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Gany, do you remember the creation of these scars?”

Those silken tresses nuzzled as he shook his head. Zeus’s arms were tight but relaxed around him as he explained, “That is because such scars are not created lightly. Your mind was as much harmed as your body, and its only defense was to suppress the memory while your body healed. I feared for you so I made sure to give your mind no reason to panic, but... I should have been the one to remove it, to explain things to you properly. Will you not tell me who stole this from me?”

His head turned again, disappointing him. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt,” Ganymede defended.

“A king must uphold order,” Zeus stated darkly. “Sometimes this requires violence.”

“Not this time,” he whispered.

Zeus sighed, “You sound like Athena.”

Ganymede lifted his head enough for his forehead to rest in the bend of his neck. “Are you angry?”

He exhaled slowly, considering. “I am displeased…but no, I am not angry anymore.”

He felt the tickle of Ganymede's eyelashes on his skin. “Then…what now?”

The king’s breath made his hair flutter as he blew out and said, “Well I suppose I have to reign in my selfishness and grant certain people the liberty of touching you.”

Ganymede jerked up, his eyelashes heavy but his complexion was looking better. “Really?”

Severity flashed across Zeus’s face as he placed fingertip on Ganymede’s nose. “Only the people in this room, as well as Athena and Apollo…in essence my intelligent children—but I will not spare kindness if the lack thereof tries my patience.”

The glare on his face went to Eros, who sprang to his feet and collided with Ganymede’s other side, his arms circling the cupbearer’s waist just a moment before Dionysus struck just as hard. He planted a loud kiss on his father’s face and then another on Ganymede’s cheeks.

“Dion, if a single one of any of your pets—” Zeus began but Dionysus cut him off between kisses to Ganymede’s face.

“Their pelts will already adorn my floor before you reach them, I assure you,” he declared.

Zeus sighed again, but seeing Ganymede’s face flushed with jubilance instead of tears was a welcome sight. He eased Ganymede off of him so Eros and Dionysus could have their way coddling him. Watching Eros pick crumbs of plaster out of his hair and seeing Dionysus using his own robe to clean his face calmed Zeus’s worries.

“Gany,” he said on his way out of the room. “Return to my rooms for sleep and breakfast. Otherwise my son won’t provide a moment of rest.”

“What are you saying?” Dionysus bristled, but his father was already gone.

However just as quickly as he was gone, Dionysus whirled around to face Eros and Ganymede with a keen glisten to his eyes. “All right, we have a month until the City Dionysia. How do we convince tall and mighty to let Ganymede come with us?”

Ganymede blanched, feeling ill for a whole new reason.


	3. Minerva

The pads of Ganymede’s fingers pressed circles into his own forehead and temples. He groaned, “There is no way that he is going to let me travel over the earth to a festival in your name.”

Dionysus’ mouth was full of ambrosia pasta stuffed with truffles. His words were indecipherable and caused Eros to cringe.

“Eugh, cover yourself. And he’s right, anything in your name is guaranteed to have too much merriment and debasement.”

“Sorry for inspiring a good time,” he retorted, shoveling more pasta into his mouth. The sun and moon had both risen and fallen since Dionysus first announced his scheme, and it only sounded more outlandish with each passage of the heavens. Ganymede was glad for the rush of heat down his spine, a breath of summons across his shoulder.

“Plant a seed in his head!” Dionysus called after him as he left to answer. “You’re the only one who can convince him!”

Ganymede shook his head and that notion away. The last time he had brought up the possibility of going to earth the king had declined it immediately.

His foot paused on the first marble step to Zeus’s rooms. He was not up there. Ganymede followed the dull tickle in his mind to the gardens. The lowest point of the palace, the gardens rested in a crater at the top of Mount Olympus and acted like a massive courtyard with the palace standing all around it. Ganymede tipped over one of the urns standing at the entrance to pour nectar into a tall goblet before he answered the summons. He found Zeus by one of the streams that filled with the rain and descended to the earth in the form of rivers and waterfalls and eventually flowed into the River Styx.

“My king,” he bowed behind him with the goblet held above his head. The vessel left his grasp and Ganymede stood to see him under the starlight. The shadows of the palace were heavy and thick, but where the stars and moon touched were comfortably illuminated. It helped that the god’s power dimly shined through his flesh.

“Have you been well today?”

“I have, my king.”

He heard Zeus turn to him before he inquired, “Is that all? Another boring day at the mercy of Dion?”

A smile teased at Ganymede’s lips. “No. He and Eros like to sing together…and they bicker just as much. I mostly just sit and watch, but it’s never boring.”

“Then I am pleased,” he said. Zeus drained the goblet where he stood, causing Ganymede’s eyes to widen. He reached for the goblet and turned to refill—

“No, stay with me.”

Ganymede watched as Zeus threw the goblet somewhere among the olive groves and grasped his hand to pull him through the arbor lattices that were so overgrown with fragrant vines that columns of marble women had been crafted to hold them up. Here shadow and light intermingled, making it more difficult to distinguish the reaching petals from a hand or a bench from discarded marble. Ganymede’s hand was drawn up to rest on Zeus’s palm while the king’s other hand absentmindedly traced over his fingers and metacarpals.

“Is there anything you want to ask of me?”

Ganymede’s stomach bobbed as he cast anxious eyes up to him. “No?”

The king gazed down at him as they continued under the arbor. “Are you sure?”

Ganymede’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked elsewhere. “I…I don’t understand what you want of me.” Had he been listening? Did he know Dionysus’ intentions? “I haven’t any right to want something.”

“You have every right, Gany,” he contradicted. “Asclepius and his daughters had to look over you while you healed. You have every right to know why.”

“Oh. Oh!” Ganymede blurted, causing Zeus’s steps to halt underneath a puzzled look. “I-I thought—I don’t know what I thought.”

“You’re only a good liar when it involves some truth,” Zeus chided mildly. “What were you expecting?”

“It’s not important.”

“Gany.”

“Really, it—”

“Gany.”

His mouth moved like a fish until his mind caught up and he reluctantly voiced, “It doesn’t need to concern me. Dionysus has just been telling us his plans for his City Dionysia.”

“He wants you to attend it,” Zeus guessed.

Ganymede sputtered. “How did…”

“Because he has never changed. Given a grape, he will take the whole tree and use the seeds to grow a vineyard. He likely wanted you to do the convincing portion of his scheme, but you already know my answer.”

“Yes, I do,” he answered slowly. He unconsciously pulled on his hand, wanting it back but Zeus’s loose hold was enough to keep it custody.

“You want to go?” the king wondered with some surprise.

Ganymede peeked up at him to gauge his mood and ventured, “Yes... From what I’ve heard…and seen of Dionysus’ reenactments…it seems like something enjoyable. Stories told on a stage with music and dancing…is it very different from what occurs here?”

“Entirely different,” Zeus declared. His voice was soft but it pulsed in the air, sending the leaves and flowers nearest to him a flutter. “The stories told are not for the faint hearted. Only a day is devoted to comedies and they are the bawdiest sort. Everything else is for tragedies and epic tales that hardly end any better, hours spent in the efforts of creating anguish in one’s heart.”

“Catharsis,” Ganymede nodded, taking Zeus unaware. “Dionysus told me, and I’ve read of it in Athena’s books. It sounds like medicine for something even Asclepius cannot touch; evoking sadness and everything negative and purging it from one’s heart. Even though the festival is in Dionysus’ name, surely it is meant to honor all of you. If you did not approve, then wouldn’t you have ended it? Dionysus made it sound as if this has been happening annually for centuries.”

This was one of the few times Zeus stood as silent as the marble around them. Ganymede had grown to equally enjoy and fear that look of perplexity on his face. A god pinned against his will, but an animal caged made for an unpredictable problem…or so he had read.

“Yes,” he relinquished, “but it has been more for their sake than ours. Although Dion enjoys mingling within his own celebrations, the endeavors taken by the humans actually amount to nothing. We do not interfere, because it does provide a source of amusement, but even the fictitious can be real when one believes enough in it, and for many that is enough.”

“What do you mean?” Ganymede asked as they reached a break in the arbor where a large, weaved seat shaped like an open clam rested in a nook of shrubbery and vines. Zeus drew him into it and sat with him pulled close beside him, reclining on the king’s chest. Ganymede could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through their fabrics into his own flesh as he explained.

“These festivals humans provide for us include animal sacrifices. They used to slay their own kind but I put a stop to it immediately. What use have we for cold blood and the burnt meat they put on their pyres? By some irony of the Fates, many Olympians do cast favor onto civilizations because of these deeds, but only out of amusement. Not everyone is like Dion, Gany. Most see them as pet ants that are easily pleased and just as easily eliminated at their whims.”

Ganymede’s weight sank against him, and he felt Zeus’s head turn and press into his hair. “It’s all right. It is in part from having a human mother that Dion has this sentimentality, but I will not surrender all of the credit.”

Ganymede hummed a sound like a laugh, his body curling to draw his knees up so they could fall more fully on Zeus’s lap. A hand fell over them, large enough to grip both knees if he chose. “Athena’s mother was human too, wasn’t she?”

“No, she was a titan,” he corrected softly. “Styx knows her daughter gave me a headache of titanic proportions.”

“How’d you swallow a titan?” he giggled.

Zeus jostled him congenially as he reiterated, “Well she was not a full-blooded titan, but my cousin from a higher generation nonetheless. You may be able to sit on me in this form, but in others, I am more than capable.”

“Hm,” Ganymede hummed again, nestling once more against his side. “She gets it from you then, her kindness.”

Zeus was silent, then, and Ganymede lifted up to find not bewilderment, but an expression he had never seen before, certainly not on the king’s face. Shame.

“No…her kindness is her own, and more likely caused by an aversion to my behavior.”

“You’re kind to me,” Ganymede refuted. Zeus’s brows perked up along with a dubious curve to his mouth. 

“That is an argument I’d rather not have tonight, but thank you.”

Ganymede was not sure where an argument would stem from, but Zeus’s hand on his head pulled him back onto his chest. He petted the fringe of hair off of his forehead, letting the tresses fall back in place before raking them back again. The strokes were more intimate than what might have been expected: a strong, undefeatable hand caressing an area on which he himself had such a traumatic scar. Ganymede began to feel his eyelids grow heavy, and soon the rhythm of touch became waves of sleep ebbing over him.

Somewhere between sleeping and awake, he heard Zeus say, “You’re not upset with me? For not going to earth?”

“No…” he mumbled, unbeknownst to himself. His voice sounded foreign despite the familiarity of the words, “I’m sad.”

He awoke in his bed and with a very different touch upon him. Athena leaned over him, smiling. Sunlight glinting off her wheat gold hair made Ganymede’s face pucker in a squinty grimace that made the goddess laugh. He helplessly swat at her hand on his nose, seeking air from every orifice he had. Her harmonious chortle flittered over him as she released his nose. “I’ve missed you. Have you grown tired of reading?”

“No…” he groaned, stretching and moving the flesh of his face to rid it of sleep.

“Break your fast with me,” she said, not as an order but she was already standing and striding from the room. Groggy but aware, he rushed after her and felt his stomach rumble when nothing short of a feast welcomed them to their usual place in the library; only now the sandpit was covered by a large carpet. With each step a new scent filled his lungs: fresh basil, sun-dried tomatoes, poached eggs with spicy peppers, tea that was fragrant and gold, strips of succulent meat with pungent cheeses, and freshly baked bread.

“You needn’t wait on formality for me,” she prompted, and he landed somewhere between the massive bowl of fresh citrus fruit, tea, and meat. He was reaching across the expanse of platters for the bread when she chortled, “One would think my father doesn’t feed you.”

“I ate with Eros and Dionysus yesterday,” he said over the bread he was breaking. He lifted the ladle out of the tea and drained it before finishing, “But only once. I forgot the rest.”

Athena sat with her elbow poised on her knee, fingertips pressed to her amused lips. “I hadn’t imagined three meals to be easily forgettable but we are amid an exciting time.”

He froze when her fingers brushed his cheek, pulling an over long, rogue piece of hair out of the corner of his mouth. His vacant albeit bewildered expression met her pleased one, and his transformed like an eggshell under a sea gull’s beak. His eyes squinted above his grin so he could barely see her, and then she playfully tugged on his earlobe. “Eat.”

He did, as he imagined the kings on earth did at their own feasts. The tea was rich and woke him up as well as washed down the savory meat roasted in its own grease. The egg yolks wept when he broke them, a succulent sauce within itself that stuck to his lips. There were also stuffed apples that he saw once his hunger had calmed somewhat; goat cheese filling sweetened by honey, spices, and other fruits.

When his stomach could not take anymore, Ganymede lay back, all but comatose. Athena frugally nibbled on berries, bathing in the sun while her owl slumbered underneath her discarded helm. “I’ve heard Semele is fond of you.”

“Mmhm…” he hummed, focusing on breathing around his full stomach. “I’m looking forward to her birthday. I’ve never seen Dionysus so quiet.”

His eyes popped open. “He probably shouldn’t know I said that.”

“My lips are sealed,” she laughed. “I told you of your way with beasts, didn’t I?”

The sand rustled under the carpet and Ganymede’s shrugging shoulders. “She’s fine. It’s the tiger that makes me anxious.”

“Don’t bother with that cat,” she scoffed. “With Semele’s affections, you have an ally, and I hardly fear for you with or without her.”

His head fell to the side to see her. “What about wolves?”

She faced him. “Why wolves?”

“His majesty said wolves are dangerous and territorial. I’ve been curious.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t speaking of himself?” she retorted, popping a berry into her mouth.

Ganymede guffawed. “He was, at first, but I can’t tell when he is being truthful or diverting our conversations.”

She lowered onto her stomach beside him, thoroughly intrigued. “The mighty Zeus seen through by a human. I would have much preferred you for a younger brother than a drunkard and violent _maniakos._ ”

Ganymede’s smile faltered. “What about Apollo?”

“He and I are too similar. We cannot share conversation without reaching an impasse.”

His mirth returned. “That is great praise. I never thought it would be tiring to have too many similarities.”

She waved a blackberry in the air while she spoke. “We are both artists and warriors. He writes his poems and I my histories. He reaches for a lute or lyre and I my sculpting chisels. He does have a superiority complex I do not care for. I think it is because his sister was born first. But we were discussing wolves. You mustn’t compare wild wolves to Ares’ war mongrels.”

“How are they different?” Ganymede asked eagerly.

“Wolves in their natural habitat are extraordinarily logical,” she said. “They can run for hours, tracking for days for their kills. Alpha pack leaders are just as easily male or female, at the top of a hierarchy that ensures the pack’s survival. They mate for life, ingrained with a loyalty unknown to most creatures.”

“Oh,” Ganymede muttered, earning her curiosity. “He was relating wolves to Olympians.”

For a second in time, Athena was statuesque, and then she proceeded to laugh harder and longer than Ganymede had ever seen. Her owl poked its head out of the helm at her commotion; even the naiads lifted their heads from the crowded lily pads. When her laughter subsided, her residual giggles uttered, “There aren’t many occasions for me to retract my words, but he was certainly not speaking of himself. Only the heavens and underworld know how many have tasted his loins…literally and figuratively.”

Ganymede grimaced, not having wanted that sort of response. Athena noticed. “This isn’t new information, Gany.”

“I know,” he responded tensely. “I’m not…shy or unknowledgeable. Dionysus certainly isn’t…Eros likes more privacy but only slightly.”

Athena smiled but tipped her head to the side as she considered that. “I suppose it does make an unsightly image in regards to a father figure.”

“He’s not my father,” he stated.

“Brother, then,” she reiterated without missing a beat. “That’s how I’ve come to think of him. The most annoying of the lot most days. I used to humor the thought of castrating him but the last time that was done, Cronus’s dangly bits made Aphrodite spring from the sea so I won’t risk another accident.”

Ganymede stared at her with wide eyes, simply grateful the goddess in question was not present to hear. Athena’s verbal thoughts came full circle, thankfully, and he found himself under the silver spotlight of her gaze. “Are you disappointed in his false comparison?”

His mouth opened but then he thought better and shook his head, giving himself time to think. “I haven’t any reason to be disappointed. Meeting Semele has just gotten me thinking; other than Hera and Demeter, she’s the only previous lover of his that I’ve met.”

She set the bowl for fruit aside and settled more comfortably next to him. “For good reason. It is a trial enough trying to keep the peace with a king who is a slave to his loins, let alone keeping recipients of his affections in the vicinity. It is a cold, macabre way of thinking about it, but Hera’s wrath is not to be trifled with and we need only one of his heads raised to attention. Brains rule a kingdom, not a cock.”

“Do you miss her?” Ganymede surprised. “Your mother.”

A long moment passed before she answered. “No, but that is because she and I had our time together. Short though it was, we were conscious of each other while I was in her womb and she bestowed all of her knowledge to me. But I have stolen enough of your time. You must attend your duties. Any longer with me and you will fall asleep.”

The change in topic was abrupt but he obediently began to gather the last of the food and took them to Athena’s quarters which rested in the back of the library. He rolled the carpet and brushed the sand pit into order, and then went to clean the empty dishes.

“Sister mine,” drawled Dionysus the moment Ganymede had left.

Athena approached and kissed the air beside his cheek. “So you’re the one causing all of the buzzing in that sweet boy’s mind.”

He laughed while leaning his shoulder against a shelf. “On the contrary, I don’t think I am the one to blame, but I am glad to whoever started it. Isn’t it rude to peer inside his head?”

“I don’t snoop,” she returned, walking past him. He followed with an easy gait. “But I feel the sway of his mind, and it is certainly on a path of evolution. The trail of words he leaves behind him…there is a great deal going on inside his head that he is not voicing to us. Go on, then, ask me.”

“I should find it insulting that you think I want something from you,” Dionysus teased.

“That is what makes you special, Dion,” she purred. “You find compliment in insults. Should I congratulate you on Gany’s sexual education?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “True knowledge comes from application and practice, and not even I am foolish enough to invite him toward that. I will not blush at providing the observation, though. Whether it is with the nymphs or in the shadows of his sleep, he will seek the needs his body has awoken to. Better to move forward with a thorough knowledge, am I wrong?”

“You’re appealing to my methods, brother,” she almost chided.

The smile on his face only widened. “Says the woman who has taken the time to teach him how to read. Why ever would you do that? Where is the knowledge of letters actually useful?”

The siblings’ gazes locked together as they came to a stop on their stroll. “We are working together without acknowledging it,” he declared softly, for her ears alone.

“What should come if we do acknowledge it?” she inquired.

“Success,” he answered. “You care about him, the same as I do, and it absolutely nauseates you to see our father use him like a pet. He does this because it is the only mindset keeping him from fucking the poor boy's brains out, but Gany is as multifaceted as any other mortal, but stronger in his own way. You and I know that. Eros knows it.”

Athena’s eye roll interrupted him. “Do not tell me he is involved. You know I agree with Apollo’s sentiments toward Eros.”

“Leave our brother and cousin to their quarrel,” Dionysus followed slightly behind her so his voice floated over her shoulder like a second conscience. “After all, even gods make mistakes.”

She whirled around, brandishing a long dagger of Hephaestus’ making. “You will watch your words when you share my company, Dion. A drunkard needs only a stomach, not his tongue.”

He lethargically pushed the blade point aside. “I am a humble farmer, not a drunkard. I choose to drink when I like, not when I can do nothing else. Consider dear Pallas a lesson on how to not _fuck up_ with Gany.”

Sharp silver irises met deep brown ones that were almost the color of merlot in certain shadows. In the corner of her eye, the striped tail of a tiger flicked disappeared behind another bookshelf.

“I want him at my festival,” Dionysus revealed. “I want him dancing and I want him to hear his own people sing.”

“But they are not his people,” she combatted. “He is not Greek.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Dionysus reminded. “Trojans and Greeks foolishly worship us all the same yet think of themselves as different. That does not matter to me. You have just over four weeks to either turn our father’s eyes away, or to convince him to let Gany come.”

“You believe you are doing Ganymede a kindness by introducing him to humanity,” Athena voiced.

“And you don’t?” Dionysus challenged. “You tease him with mortal knowledge that he cannot use?”

“He asked me for the knowledge, and any how, I anticipated to have years to change Zeus’s mind,” she reiterated. “Four mortal weeks is nothing. It is not enough time.”

“As I said,” Dionysus finished as his tiger came to rub against his leg. “Either convince him, or turn his gaze aside.”

“And have us all killed the moment he can’t find Gany?” she countered with a lifted brow.

Dionysus only grinned over his shoulder. “You’re clever, Minnie, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

_Minnie. Minerva._ Her name in a different civilization and his favorite pet name for her. And she hated him for it.

Athena knew that if anyone was going to kill Dionysus, it was going to be her. That brat of a god had gotten her involved too deeply, and now she was doomed to go down with his ship if he crashed it. As he and his annoying cat sauntered out of sight she could see how every angle of his side would fail. He was cunning enough to get her involved but he was ruthless in how he knew what it would take to make his plan successful, and he had put the task on her.

Her owl’s talons clenched the bunched fabric at her shoulder when it landed. Nibbling on her ear, the tickle worked to clear her thoughts, cleaning the slate for proper planning ahead…


	4. Jealousy

Ganymede held the dish of olives from his position between the divans. He had not expected Zeus to summon his attendance during his lunch with Ares, but his son was in good spirits today, speaking animatedly with his hands in the air. Ganymede’s eyes wandered over the prominent veins in his hands while he spoke, paying more attention to his gestures than his words. Dialogue of battle strategy and war jargon flittered over the waters of his conscious, creating ripples but never sinking deep. Whenever Ganymede paid more attention to Ares’ exploits, he could not help but see everything from Athena’s point of view.

“Our pincer formation was flawless! We bit them in half and the division weakened their phalanx. They kept fighting like this and I knew they would be overtaken within the hour…”

 _Shouldn’t newer methodology be shared?_ he wondered. _There isn’t much honor in fighting an unprepared enemy. You’ll grow tired of winning without a challenge._

“The fortress was penetrated easily. Despicable. Pathetic, really. Apollo, Hephaestus, even Athena have shown them how to build a proper fortress—”

“Neither Athena’s nor Apollo’s walls have fallen, and anything forged by Hephaestus' never fails, ” Zeus reminded calmly, removing a pit from his mouth and reaching for another olive.

“Then perhaps Hephaestus should remain in his volcano and keep his talents focused on weapons instead of defense.”

“His shields have defended our strongest heroes,” Zeus rebuked in the same indifferent tone. “It is hardly a fair judgment when the battle was between mortals and you. The equivalent is knocking over a palace of cards instead of playing the game.”

Ares spat his olive pit in the urn at Ganymede’s feet. “The game is the same. No honor is lost except for those who cannot adapt accordingly.”

Ganymede’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as Zeus chuckled, “I fear the day your armies face a foe blessed by one of your siblings.”

A wicked, giddy smile flashed on Ares’ face. “What a day it will be. Deimos and Phobos would relish the energy of that battlefield. The shift in the soldiers’ demeanor when my twins step into their ranks is palpable…”

 _I knew I wouldn’t get help from my father. I’m not like my siblings,_ Eros had said.

“Those who can stand beside them with a steady heart…those are true heroes,” Ares rambled.

“One would think you care not for your own family,” Zeus declared as if sensing Ganymede’s thoughts. “Why should anyone fight for you, he who values destruction above family?”

Ares made an indecent sound followed by the _ding_ of an olive pit striking the urn. “Brothers fight one another endlessly. It is the united family that is uncommon, and all others fight and live for glory. They die for family.”

“The two coincide, son,” Zeus corrected. “In the face of war, to live or die is not a consideration; they can only to do the best they can in the effort of being remembered and protecting their homes from afar.”

Far from perturbed, Ares popped another olive into his smug grin. “And that is what separates us from them. They can only hope for a legacy. We are infinite.”

Ganymede’s eyes slid to the side, eyeing as well as feeling the shift in Zeus’s demeanor. To the untrained or careless eye such as Ares’, he did not notice a difference, but Ganymede’s ear knew the prickle of electricity in the king’s clothing, the set of his mouth and shadow of his eyes during the rise of anger.

“You were born, son of mine, and this is the prerequisite of death. Why do you think they worship us?”

“Because we are superior,” he answered without hesitation.

“Because they are not so unlike us,” Zeus rebuked.

“We are entirely different!” Ares bristled, which was no small thing for someone prone to two emotions only: calm, and livid.

 _Leave, Gany,_ whispered inside the cupbearer’s thoughts, and he willingly obeyed. The last place he wanted to be was near Ares while he proved his superiority over humans. The last he heard of the argument was Ares’ voice saying, “You are soft on them! Soft as Athena’s weaving. Cloth does not defend against the sword…”

“Whew,” Dionysus surprised Ganymede, falling into step alongside him. He took the dish of olives from him and popped them into his own mouth. “Such hot tensions. I don’t know how you bear it.”

He could hardly take credit for Zeus’s protection but something else deterred his thoughts. “You don’t like your brother?”

Ganymede choked on the sudden laughter inside him at Dionysus’ disgusted expression. “I relish celebration. He only cares for demolition. It’s bad enough my wines are spilled over the graves he digs. It is a small but sweet revenge when he drinks them in the company of his lover.”

Ganymede looked at him. “Do you mean Aphrodite?”

Dionysus nodded, his mouth full of olives. The pits slipped between his lips into his hand, which rotated, and the next time Ganymede saw his palm, the seeds had vanished. “It is by her insistence that he drinks. For some men, it creates fire in their bellies, for Ares it drowns it.”

He leaned toward Ganymede, tapping his nose as if that was where secrets were kept. “Know the weakness of someone, and they can never harm you.”

“Does she fear him?” he wondered.

Finishing the last of the olives, Dionysus set the dish on a marble bust’s head like a helmet. He shrugged, “Yes and no. Mostly no. There is an equilibrium of power to be maintained. She is the breeder of love, and gods above and below know how he and most of his sons adore the battlements. Oddly enough, without her influence, they cannot exist. Even though their passions are cruelty, they love all the same. And what is fear without the juxtaposition of love? What are they but abstract ideas without their passion to inflict fear? They are but toads without purpose; the loud, bloated pets of their father, but their mother gives them water, and turns them into leaping frogs.”

Something about this struck Ganymede, who voiced, “Are there none who fear love?”

Dionysus eyed him with something akin to pride as he guffawed, “Thus is why most prefer Deimos and Phobos to remain with their father. Let fear and terror remain in the predictable hands of war, not the journey of life, yes?”

They rounded the corner and found themselves in the gardens. Ganymede thought aloud, “Only Eros lives up here, so I’ve never seen his mother with the others.”

Dionysus shrugged again. “It’s not much different than seeing Demeter and Persephone. I don’t care for witnessing a mother’s whispers in a child’s ear. Thank whatever Fate crafted the individuality in Eros’s mind.”

Ganymede smiled. “Where is he?”

Dionysus gave a show of appearing appalled. “Am I not enough for your company?”

The youth giggled. “You’re more than enough. I was just wondering.”

The god threw his arm around his neck and Ganymede got a face full of wine red fabric. “He’s just attending to some chores. We should see him before Helios passes the pinnacle of the sky.”

******

“You can’t miss.”

Eros snorted. “What sort of archer do you take me for?”

“I mean it,” she ordered. “This isn’t like what happened with Apollo. You _cannot_ miss this time.”

The grin that bloomed across Eros’ face was shockingly similar to his father’s. “Love is war, cousin. Do you really think, with my father, I could ever _miss_?”

Her own countenance became much like Zeus’s. Eros and Dionysus had often japed late into the night about their fortune in how Athena did not have the power of the skies. “All the more evidence why, if you ruin this—”

Her eyes lowered to the arrowhead poised underneath her chin. “Do not underestimate me. I have my father’s aim and my mother’s pride. I never miss. Apollo is a whiny shit and he deserved the humbling experience. I know you and he have likely been bonding over your lost loves but you’re right: this isn’t like what happened with Apollo. This involves Gany, and if you think you will be the one who mourns him the most, then you ought to seek someone else’s aid. I won’t be the one who crafts his demise.”

“Remove your arrow,” Athena ordered, almost bored by this procrastination. “If anyone is going to die, it will by Dion for this ridiculous plot, and I will personally see to that. Choose your arrow with intelligence. Zeus will not be so easily swayed like he used to be.”

Eros returned his arrow to his quiver with a laugh. “We need to inspire a slow courtship…from someone who knows more about flirting than our sweet Gany.”

“See to it, then,” she finished. They parted ways, Eros skipping with a tune whistling from his lips, almost as if to warn his prey of his coming.

*******

Ganymede once again found himself in the company of Dionysus in the garden, this time with Eros as well. The latter rested his head on Ganymede’s lap while the other prattled on about something or other. Either way, he was enthused enough to pace in from of his lattice; along the wall of the crater he had poised a lattice on which his vines could grow. Ganymede and Eros lounged against it, enjoying the peridot grapes and replying only when necessary.

“The audacity!” Dionysus cried. “How can she continue to blame me for the pomegranates?”

“Couldn’t say,” Eros yawned.

“Grapes! My harvests are grapes! Not bloody pomegranates!” he growled. The groan of a tiger could be heard somewhere in the garden. Even the god’s animal companions could not be bothered to react to his mood. “It is not my fault!”

“It so rarely is.”

“What that depressing sod grows in his kingdom is his business! If anything, it’s Demeter’s fault for showing him how seeds work! It’s tiresome enough that she dries everything up during the winter, denying _us_ of our efforts, but now in the spring she finds anyone she can to blame for _her_ cold spell!”

“Heartless,” Eros managed to mumble around a grape.

“It’s either her own damn fault for raising such an idiot child or she is the one too stupid to notice that Persephone actually likes the oaf!”

“Oaf? You wouldn’t be talking about my brother, would you?”

The three of them startled at the sight of Zeus coming through the lattices tunnel. Eros obligingly lifted his weight so Ganymede could stand and bow. The king came around his son, pecking his cheek and then tugged Ganymede back down to sit on his other side. He picked off grapes as he finished, “Although I must inquire as to which one has you so enflamed.”

“Neither!” Dionysus exploded. “Aunt as targeted _me_ this year for her tirades!”

“You’ll forgive me for relishing a break from them myself,” Zeus proposed. He picked off two grapes at a time, one of them going to Ganymede.

Dionysus rubbed his forehead. “Why doesn’t Persephone stand up for herself? She ate the damn pomegranate. The least she could do is own up for her actions and save the rest of us the trouble.”

“Is it too difficult to believe she loves her mother and husband equally?” Zeus challenged. “She does not wish to hurt Demeter by admitting how she enjoys her time away.”

“Then she is a coward and a liar,” Dionysus fumed, but Ganymede moved with the tremors of Zeus’s laughter.

“I would advise not saying such things to the queen of the dead. A woman who spends such time amongst heroes as Heracles and Jason is not to be trifled with.”

Dionysus scoffed. “That hardly impresses me. Jason could not quell the temper of the woman he wronged and Heracles died a madman.”

“The challenges of life place us on different pillars,” Zeus calmed, “but death brings us all back to the same level. Death peeled away Jason’s fleece, Heracles’s madness, and they both rest below with their families. Death lets us be who we really are.”

Eros’ head tilted to look at him. His mouth opened, but he chose to say nothing. Dionysus was not so composed. “Pfft. Which family does Jason rest with? His doomed bride and her father or his manic wife and his own sons she butchered?”

“You are holding events of his life against him,” Zeus chided. “Death does not care.”

“How would you know?” Dionysus challenged. “You rule the sky. You and Poseidon rule the realms of life. You both make people and you end them. Thanatos and Hades pick up the pieces—DO NOT THROW MY OWN GRAPES AT ME!”

“So much tension,” Zeus chided, throwing another grape which landed right in his son’s ear. “I had no idea you respected Hades, so.”

“I will not much longer if he does not get his wife's mother under control!” He caught the next grape and its juice bled between his fingers.

Zeus guffawed. “Good luck to the man who succeeds. Better it be a woman. Only Hera and Persephone seem to have any effect on Demeter.”

Dionysus’s anger seemed to finally sputter out. “Only because Demeter knows her position as the other woman in the presence of your wife, and women are weak to creatures who come from betwixt their legs.”

Ganymede startled, so rough was Zeus’s mirth. “Then pray tell this to Hephaestus or even your own children. He was thrown right off of this mountain by his mother and your own offspring come to you for defense instead of their mother.”

This was something Dionysus could not deny, and his grimace revealed as much. Zeus’s mirth simmered into a simple smile. “Come, Dion. You’re my genius child, apart from Athena. Do not trap yourself in a conversation so easily.”

 _Know the weakness of someone, and they can never harm you,_ he had said. Ganymede could not help the small smile on his lips. Equal genius of Athena. God of wine who drank water. A mother’s son and devoted father. Dionysus was full of surprises.

The smile faltered when Eros poked his cheek. Ganymede looked down at where the god was resting on his curled arm, but Eros simply appeared bored. Ganymede reciprocated by tugging on a curl that was closer to brass than gold, which was followed by Eros dropping his hand on Ganymede’s knee. He squeezed along the muscles supporting the joint, inciting an unexpected tickle spot. Ganymede flailed with laughter, drawing Zeus’s and Dionysus’ attention, until the former threw Eros’ hand off.

Ganymede’s smile vanished as the king stood. “You will attend me this evening. The pair of you is expected as well. Come, Hephaestus could use you.”

Ganymede peeked at Eros and Dionysus, who visually shared sympathy but could do nothing. He followed Zeus until he reached the stairs leading deep into the mountain. Beside them was a wide chute the size of a table on which specially prepared ambrosia lifted from the bowels of the volcano that housed both Hephaestus’s smithy and kitchen. Usually the food appeared without any need to go to the kitchens.

As he descended the stairway, marble gave way to stone, then stone to volcanic pumice. Ganymede winced at the sharp pricks under his feet as the dew on his skin grew heavy enough to slither down his flesh. The heat stuck in his lungs by the point he reached the kitchen. He knew he was close by the rhythmic ringing of metal, but it ceased altogether upon his arrival. The sound of hammering was music compared to the grating voice that followed.

“Must be a punishment for him to send you down here.”

Ganymede bowed more out of hot fatigue than anything. “My lord—”

“I am no lord. Look at me when you speak or get out.”

Pushing against his knees, thighs, and then hips to help himself up, Ganymede tried again, “I am to attend the dinner this evening.”

If the shadows were anything to go by the god was as large as Zeus but the darkness of the forge obscured his form. Black and orange flickered around him. “What does he send you here for, then?”

Ganymede wished his hair was long enough to tie off his face again. “He said I could be of service.”

“You don’t know,” that raspy growl reiterated. “A punishment, as I said. More like a death sentence. Perhaps he did not expect you to come here so willingly.”

A cry escaped Ganymede when a wet cloth suddenly landed on his head. It was cold and dripping. Where the god had gotten such a temperature, he did not know, but he gratefully wrapped it around his head and neck. “Thank you.”

He realized, then, that the dark mass before him was not a shadow or heat mirage, but Hephaestus himself. Towering above Ganymede, he stood on an angle due to a permanently broken leg. The only way for it to have healed was to take the shattered segment of bone out, making it shorter than its twin. That entire side was in a permanent state of disrepair. His body was bound in protective leathers that hardly seemed utilitarian since most of them were charred or burnt off entirely. Thick scar tissue rippled over Hephaestus’s arms, leg, and face, but not from the tiny flames licking along his flesh. Healed wounds from a tremendous fall were the cause of his malformation, the absence of hair on half of his skull, and the reason why his features drooped on one side.

“How may I serve?” Ganymede prompted.

Those features altered, creating a visage someone might find grotesque but one Ganymede recognized as puzzled shock. “Are your eyes dull, boy?”

“I don't think so, my…um,” his words dropped off, not sure how to address the god. “But I’m afraid I am only strong enough to carry, not to wield.”

“I’m talking about my face, boy,” he growled, but Ganymede was not sure if it was out of anger or if it was just the state of his voice. “Not your spindly arms.”

Ganymede’s gaze flitted to the gargantuan arms. The god stood as tall as his father but was significantly wider. “What about it?”

“You’re stupid, then,” the god concluded. He turned and drove a poker into a bed of embers. They flared orange while blue flames jumped into the air. The massive kettle of soup above them boiled loudly. Ganymede followed him as he stoked his fires, mixed his soups and tossed his vegetables. As he rotated spits on which entire halves of animal carcasses roasted, he elaborated, “They say Hera disposed of me because she couldn’t believe such a monster came out of her cunt.”

He rotated and his step landed loudly, cut to a halt at the sight of Ganymede behind him. “Do you not wish to run from such a visage?” he loomed over him.

Ganymede shrugged. “It sounds like a rumor the gods laugh over. You look like his majesty…though maybe that was why she threw you…”

He shyly burst into giggles, imagining how Dionysus and Eros would guffaw at Hera’s reaction over a child as handsome as the father she spent equal amounts of time despising and loving. Hephaestus stood silent before him, causing Ganymede’s mirth to evaporate like the water in his towel. He swallowed and murmured, “Erm, I only mean…your scars say more about her than they do you.”

Hephaestus was silent still, making Ganymede exceedingly more and more uncomfortable. Finally, he uttered, “You’re bleeding.”

The youth blinked. “Pardon?”

“Your feet,” he answered sharply, lumbering toward his next destination. This turned out to be a seat that appeared to be carved from the trunk of a tree wide enough to hold his frame. “Sit.”

He did, and forced himself not to wince when callused hands reached for his neck. Surprisingly gentle, the god unwound the knot of cloth and switched the useless towel for a fresh one. He also scooped water from a pot that was dusted with pale frost into a brass pitcher. “Pour this over you,” he ordered, setting it on the anvil beside him.

Ganymede did so, relishing the trickle of cold into his hair and behind his ears. He did jump, however, when a frigid cloth swiped over the bottom of his foot. He could see in the light that it came away red. Hephaestus’s hands felt like sand as they held his ankle and patted away the blood before wrapping a fresh cloth around his foot and then binding a leather pad under his foot. “What is that?”

“A sandal,” he answered gruffly. He did the same treatment to the other foot and then told Ganymede to stand. The leather thongs braided up his shins were foreign and slightly abrasive, but his feet welcomed the cool relief. Abruptly, the god pointed to something set into the wall. Ganymede realized it was the dumb waiter when he ordered, “Make sure nothing burns, and when something is plated, put it over there. You’ll handle the rest when you return above.”

This proved easy enough to do. The only hindrances were the weight of the ladles and having to return to the water to cool off. At some point Hephaestus pulled him away from a long stove of sizzling peppers and ushered him toward the stairs. “Bathe. Make yourself presentable,” he said tersely. Ganymede understood why when he finally climbed to the summit of the stairs. Twilight had fallen and his raiment was soaked with sweat and smelled of soot and cooking alike.

Ganymede did not trust himself to get in the bath, so he unbound his feet and let them kick in the water as he sat on the edge and used a bucket to pour over his head. His cheeks were still hot as he pulled on indigo pants and the orange robe Athena had given him. After he rebound his feet in silk and leather, he went to set up the food.

The platters of food were waiting for him where they usually were, and the gathering room was just around the corner. Most of the company had already arrived but were preoccupied with nectar as he set up the food. The fruit and cold cheeses were set out first, then the gooey, oven-warmed cheese, olives, and fresh loaves of bread and pita. Demigod children and nymphs clustered around the fruit and cheeses, sending him carefree words of thanks and welcome. One of them demanded meat, which Ganymede went to fetch, but the vegetables and herb-infused olive oil were meant to come alongside the bread. Short on hands, he piled the oil vessels on the meat and vegetable platters, but when the nymphs swarmed him, their body heat and pungent perfume oils struck his sinuses like a blow. The last thing he could clearly comprehend were the words, “AARGH! You foolish _malakas_!”

The crash of glass and metal drew the attention of the room. Athena’s head whirled around, knowing who was involved with dishes. Fury glistened in her eyes at the hearing of such insults to the unconscious youth, but Zeus beat her to them.

The nymph, whose dress was doused in yellow oil and dark herbs, shrieked when he gripped her by the neck and jaw. “What have you done?” he growled.

“T-T-The slave,” she tried, but her voice was snuffed out.

 _“He is not a slave,”_ he uttered darkly. _“Least of all to you.”_

A squeeze was all it took. The bones in her neck crackled and her head sagged. Of course, she did not die. The next grip did that. Her body wracked with electricity, and fell apart. Flesh disintegrated and landed on the floor in the form of bark and twigs. The woodland nymph was no more.

The others scattered, cowering. Somewhere in the room Poseidon’s voice uttered, “It seems the mood has expired prematurely. Come.”

The naiads in his company dashed away and the other woodland deities rushed to join them. The scuttle of their feet filtered through Ganymede’s consciousness as he felt cool fingers combing through his hair, the tingle of fingernails on his scalp…

“He’s pale,” Athena said over him, “but he is hot. What was he doing today?”

“Here,” said another female voice. Water trickled into his mouth, only drops at first, but he swallowed and more followed. Eros and Dionysus stood off to the side. The room had emptied of all except the pair of them, father and daughter, the unconscious, and a brave water nymph who held the cup to Ganymede’s lips.

Athena’s gaze went to Ganymede’s feet. Her brow furrowed as her eyes flicked up to Dionysus. She could see her own thoughts on his face. Ganymede had never worn sandals. She removed them and opened the silk bandages. There was only one place in the palace with rough floors. “You sent him to the forge?”

It was then that Dionysus pulled Eros from the room by the wrist, but not without escaping her notice. On the contrary, he made sure to catch her gaze as they left.

“Leave,” she ordered the nymph. “Send for Asclepius.”

“My lady,” she murmured, setting the small bowl down.

Zeus glanced to make sure she was gone but Athena took up the bowl and spoke first. “Explain. What incited you to send Gany to such a place?”

“Eros is overly familiar with him,” Zeus uttered. He paced while he spoke, but he bristled when Athena scoffed.

“More like you witnessed something innocent and misinterpreted it entirely. How does sending him to Hephaestus solve this? So he’ll know what could happen if he dares to have companions?”

“You know that is not true,” he warned.

“I know you are avoiding answering me,” she met his challenge. “You’re like a child overcome with jealousy. You know Gany cannot survive in those heats.”

“My lord and lady,” entered a calm voice. Athena stood to be out of Asclepius’s way. With one look he immediately crouched down and spread Ganymede’s arms and legs. He opened his robe further to dispel his body temperature. “Ice or cool water would be most applicable.”

Marble crunched loudly under the weight of an iron cauldron. Three pairs of eyes turned to Hephaestus setting his source of cold water on the floor, a pot large enough to roast Ganymede but which he lifted with ease. His grey eyes looked between the three of them, and then he silently returned to his dwelling.

While Asclepius tended to Ganymede, Athena walked with Zeus to the terrace. A mirthless smile played on her face. “For trying to keep him away from Eros, your fear of his making friends is for naught. Not much can coax Hephaestus from his fires.”

“I know this,” Zeus uttered. To anyone else, his tone would have garnered silence.

Athena spoke on, “This will break his trust. You’ve given him the leave to have normal relations but just as quickly denied them from him.”

“I never gave false impressions,” her father corrected. “I warned Eros from the start—”

“We’ve come full circle to how you punished Gany for Eros’ misdeeds, if misdeeds they were. What exactly did he do?”

Zeus’s glare went inside to where Ganymede lay on the floor, rousing just enough for Asclepius to nurse water into his mouth. “His audacity pushes my limits. He touches Gany too familiarly.”

“You touch him familiarly,” Athena countered. 

“He is my cupbearer.”

“He is Eros’ friend.”

That gave Zeus pause. His gaze locked on a set of clouds drifting past, his thoughts working to absorb the—

Athena sighed and reached forward, “This grows tiresome.”

She palmed the side of his skull, her birthplace and gateway into his mind. The flare of anger was easy enough to find, and in it she saw Eros’ hand on Ganymede’s knee. The only crime that she could see was causing Ganymede to laugh louder than Zeus ever had.

She began to withdraw her hand. “Better that you burst from my skull, papa. You might have gained more sensibilities instead of bestowing them all to me.”

He caught her wrist. “You overstep your own boundaries, daughter. Disobedience from secondary Olympians I can manage, but not yours. What am I to do when it becomes a commonality?”

She huffed a bitter laugh in his face. “Remember what fear felt like.”

What was a mildly cloudy day a moment before was now a wall of iron grey clouds. Their edges wafted and fringed along Zeus’s arm fondly. “Semele lives because your brother’s audacity proved a show of brilliance. If you continue your second performance of foolishness I will elaborate on why she lives and your mother does not.”

Athena showed teeth. “Because you fear your wife. You thought swallowing your lover would hide her and the baby inside her. Or was it because of a prophecy? There are so many, they become difficult to keep track. Who is to remember which woman is to birth children greater than their fathers?”

The bones of her wrist and forearm ground together as he answered, “I was one such child, do not forget. It is a cruel irony: how your mother helped induce Cronus to vomit my siblings but could not adapt the situation for herself before I birthed you.”

But Athena was not Ares. Her anger was calculated and powerful, making her rage twice as dangerous. Twisting her wrist so fast his arm went with it, lightning crackled in the sky as his shoulder bulged out of place and she kicked his knees out from under him to pin him beneath her. He fell, but did not let go. His stubborn strength reigned, oblivious to physical pain even as her other hand thrust into his chest, her fingers like claws holding his ribcage and sternum. She lurched slightly with the jolt of electricity—a warning. They reached an impasse.

“Do not _dare_ place yourself above Cronus in my presence. I was born from my mother’s womb, not _you._ My first war was in your bowels, and _I won._ I could have split more than just your head apart. You play with your clouds and think lightning makes you the strongest of us, but Ouranos made the sky in which you play. You swallowed me and my mother the same as your father consumed everyone else, but you needed my mother’s aid as well as the help of titans to gain your throne. You are not better. You are a lesser of two evils. Which term do you dislike more, father? Evil, or _lesser?"_

“Hahhh…”

Zeus’s gaze left Athena, following the sigh he knew so well. Ganymede gulped now, parched and awake before he sighed again. His head sagged to the side from where it rested on Asclepius’s knee. Groggy and green, those eyes met his and blinked heavily. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

The thing about bones, they were only necessary for mortal forms. His ribs disintegrated into vapor long enough for him to pull Athena’s hand out of his chest and his torso solidified without a scar. Asclepius turned Ganymede’s head for another drink and simultaneously held a cloth to his neck, absorbing the sweat his body released to regulate his temperature. Zeus approached and Asclepius obligingly raising Ganymede’s head for the king’s arm to curl under. Zeus gathered him in his arms and pulled another sigh from him when he stood.

“I’m…sorry…” he breathed, but Zeus held him close, burying his face in the dark honey hair.

“Hush,” he purred.

 _You have been warned already,_ Athena voiced in his mind as he carried Ganymede to his rooms. _It is not from us you must expect danger, but the one in your arms. All you can hope for is that his hatred is not bred from your own doing._

His jaw clenched but he let her words drift through and out of his head. He turned the corner of the hallway and paused. The nymph from before knelt by the staircase that led to his rooms. Her dewy eyes slowly turned up at him and wandered between him and Ganymede. She smiled. “I am glad he is all right.”

A brow arched over his expression as he watched her stand and bow her head, hands clasped demurely. “You did not run with the others,” he recalled.

She simply nodded and said. “I hope I was of even the littlest service. Can I be of any other use, majesty?”

He looked her over, gauging her sincerity. His silver gaze roamed over the gold chain holding the translucent fabric of her gown around her slim waist. “No.”

She nodded again and left on silent steps.

The next sensation Ganymede felt was his body being lowered onto a bed, but not his own. Cool silks kissed his heated skin as his heavy lashes parted to look up at Zeus. The king lifted his torso to ease off the robe; Ganymede found himself fitted in the safety of Zeus’s broad chest. “Your...bed?” he asked mutely.

Zeus lowered him back onto the pillows. He saw that Ganymede was waiting for an answer. “I can tend you more easily from here.”

A delirious laugh shook him. “Do you know how?”

Zeus’s eyes rolled. “I am not entirely brutish.”

“I’m not sure you’ve ever attended anyone,” Ganymede mumbled. A silken quilt lowered over him.

Zeus kissed his temple and hushed, “Your words are cruel. Let me take care of you.”

Ganymede inhaled and sighed raggedly, his lashes sagging closed. “Why should I when…when…”

His throat went dry, and Zeus brought a small bowl carved from agate to his lips. After several gulps he continued, “You’re supposed to keep me cool, not warm.”

His body sagged when Zeus’s weight pushed into the mattress. Whispering to the winds, he commanded them to fill Ganymede’s hair, to slip beneath the silk, to cool the temperature of the room while he slept. The bowl of water was hardly set on the beside dresser when his eyes heavily shut and his breathing became even.

Zeus patted a cloth against the last of his sweat and watched the air travel over Ganymede’s body. When gooseflesh rippled over a lightly golden shoulder, he leaned down and pressed his lips there. A raspberry blush blossomed under his kiss, and he left them wherever Ganymede felt a chill. When the quilt slithered down and a nipple peaked he kissed there too, causing Ganymede to squirm and curl toward him. Zeus’s kisses dragged up his chest, leaving a necklace of pink across the collarbone and then further along his neck. Zeus’s arm under Ganymede’s head tilted him so he could reach the space behind his ear.

“Hmmuh?” Zeus moved his hair out of the way so those eyes could see him clearly. “What…?” he voiced, but the king knew what he asked.

“I wonder what I would see if I looked inside here,” he voiced. His fingers grazed along Ganymede’s temple.

“Why?” he breathed.

“For reasons of my own and reasons others give me,” the king answered.

“Why not just ask?” Ganymede wondered through a yawn.

Zeus’s chuckle was deep in his chest while his lips planted light kisses on Ganymede’s forehead. “Have you never feared to ask a question, Gany?”

“Isn’t the answer worse?”

He cringed to have a god’s laughter so close, and Zeus’s mirth only grew when Ganymede’s hands tried to stifle the noise. The king’s neck craned against Ganymede pushing against his mouth until he caught the wrists and silenced his own voice by kissing those hands. “What answers would you fear?”

He had meant it as a jape, a means to rile the youth up further—anything other than this semi-comatose state. Ganymede’s answer stymied him: “For another’s words to be right.”

He stilled and slowly transferred Ganymede’s wrists into one of his hands, the other propping himself up. “Whose words?”

Ganymede shook his head. “S’too many to say. I just want to sleep here.”

“I don’t like the thought of you keeping secrets from me, Gany,” he countered, albeit softly. “Has Eros or Dion planted a worry in your mind?”

Ganymede’s eyes opened. “No.” They closed.

Zeus blinked, unsure how to proceed from such an anticlimactic response. He did not have to, because Ganymede spoke while his eyes remained closed. “Why don’t you like Eros?”

“His mother corrupts him,” he answered easily, “and he breaches my boundaries.”

“I disagree. They have similar minds but with different thoughts. Do you fear he will in turn corrupt me?”

“No. I know you are too smart for it.”

Suddenly those hazel eyes opened and fixed upon him. “You lie,” he breathed.

“I have never lied,” Zeus amended. “Not to you.”

“You evade,” Ganymede amended.

“I fear Athena corrupting your thoughts more than that fluffy boy ever could,” the former grumbled.

Ganymede acquiesced a laugh but his tone was fleeting…nostalgic for something he did not have. “I would have you speak plainly with me.”

“Would?” Zeus wondered. “Not must?”

“That is not in my power,” Ganymede said quietly. “So I do not ask.”

Zeus frowned, the wind dancing in the drapes dying down. “If you desire an answer, I shall give it.”

Ganymede nodded, “You once offered to tell me anything about my scars.”

“As I do now,” he confirmed.

“Who are my parents?”

If the wind had not left the room, it had most certainly left the god’s lungs. He lowered down so his head was on his fist. “They were human, and died long ago. Their names were Tros and Callirrhoe. They lived long and happily, thanks to the blood and blessing of Callirrhoe’s father, a river deity.”

Ganymede’s attention perked up. “Is that why I age differently?”

Zeus silently vowed never to tell Athena that she had been right about Ganymede discovering his age. “No…an immortal he is but not a powerful one. You have vitality because Asclepius needed to nourish you with our nectar and ambrosia while you healed.”

“Oh,” he uttered, slightly deflated. “Did I have siblings?”

“Yes,” Zeus answered, although warily. “How did you guess?”

“I think I remember one of them…in my dreams,” he revealed. “What was his name?”

Zeus knew the name as if he spoke it regularly. “Either Ilos or Assaracus.”

“Ilos,” Ganymede declared. “Ilos.”

The muscles in Zeus’s jaw ticked but he assured, “A doting elder brother, to be sure, but I wonder if it is not his son you are remembering, your nephew. Ilos was a man grown when you were born, with already a son of his own: Priam.”

_Don’t step on the nails!_

Ganymede remembered the scorched feeling in his lungs. _Wait, Pri! Priam!_

“I have a nephew…” he uttered.

“Who was certainly the most heartbroken when he no longer had you,” Zeus confirmed.

Ganymede rolled onto his side to look at him better. “What of my brothers and parents?”

Zeus’s brows lifted alongside his shrug as he said, “They wept and prayed until I sent them the finest horses men would ever see.”

A long silence passed, and Zeus thought the worst was past until he realized Ganymede’s stare was deadpan. “Horses?” he repeated. “You sent them horses to replace me?”

The king’s eyes widened. “They were within the lineage of Helios’s steeds. Practically gods in themselves—”

Ganymede rolled onto his other side, away from him. Zeus reached for his hair, but the young man was stiff and unreceptive. “Gany? Gany, are you sulking?”

“No,” he rebuked. “I’ve only forgotten how normal it is for one’s family to forget a member after an influx of chariot pullers.”

Zeus had never heard such a tone from him, but he checked his curiosity and soothed, “They hardly forgot you. You were the pride of their house, a son amongst the gods. It was only after I personally assured them of your safety and well being that their tears dried and they smiled again.”

He watched Ganymede’s ribcage rise and fall with even breath, seeing this information calm him. Or so he thought. “You lied to them too. Was I recovered when you said this?”

Zeus’s sigh was heavy and audible. “No...you weren’t. Your condition had just become stable, so it was not entirely a lie.”

Ganymede pressed, “Was I happy here? In the beginning?”

“No,” he stated truthfully. “No, you were not. Hermes thought to amuse you once by portraying himself as Priam…but the way you screamed, I’ve never seen Hermes frightened of anything he could outrun. You might have noticed that he has never appeared in your company again.”

A short burst of air told him Ganymede was still sulking. Draping an arm over Ganymede’s waist, Zeus slid his body across the distance to curl around Ganymede’s. “It was a beautiful day when you first smiled here,” he said huskily. Heat rushed from Ganymede’s ear and down his torso. “Rain was sprinkling Athena’s library pool while the sun beamed. You could finally walk on your own and had wandered away from Asclepius’s gaze to where the naiads were singing. They sang and danced for you. Though you were but a child, your laughter was the sweetest sound to my ear.”

Ganymede’s breathing seemed to ease by this. Zeus felt encouraged to add, “I trained you to serve me for your safety, knowing none of my siblings would allow a mortal to live here without serving, but not before I served you first. When you wished for the sun, I cleared the skies for you. When you wished for rain, it poured. If you cried I sang and soon only I was granted your touch. Forgive me, but you spoiled me. In your terror I was the one you trusted, the one you ran to with your fears.”

“You don’t sing anymore.”

Zeus’s brows perked up. “Would you like me to? That was always more my son’s area. In Apollo's words, I sound more like a shrill wind.”

“I don’t remember that,” Ganymede uttered quietly, and then, “But your voice is too deep to be shrill.”

He chuckled deeply, nuzzling Ganymede’s nape as if to prove his words right. “Am I cruel to hold those memories deep within my heart? That time period is swathed from your consciousness, too sharp to touch despite being so dear to me.”

“Is now not dear?”

“Mmm…” he hummed. “It was a time when you were all to myself. Now cannot compare.”

“Mmph. So you are selfish. And needy.”

“I am—oh.” Ganymede turned back around to face him, catching him by surprise. Zeus’s hand flattened against his lower back while Ganymede’s finger pressed over his nose, moving the flesh around. Zeus’s eyelids lowered to half-mast, accepting the torture until he grasped Ganymede’s wrist to hold it still, to kiss the knuckles of his curled fingers. Those fingers unfolded, allowing him to seek the palm, lavishing the hillock of the thumb and the web of veins at the base.

Ganymede pulled his hand away, but only so far as to place the pads of his fingers on those lips, feeling their suppleness, how they softly sank and lifted under his touch. He traced the outer edge of those lips and their seam, before drifting to the side. His touch seemed to want to adventure over his jaw but his trail ceased, and Zeus felt the pad of a thumb once more on his lips.

“Let me sleep.”

He felt the lips curve in a smile before his hand fell and he pressed himself underneath Zeus’s chin. A kiss dusted his hair as the words sent him to sleep, “As ever, Gany, I serve.”

He awoke in Zeus’s bed alone. The bedside plate of edibles was empty, as usual. Without sleep, the king often ate while he watched the night pass. Rubbing sand from his eyes, Ganymede arose and went to bathe in cool waters. He remained longer than usual, swimming and watching the veins of light dance across the hammered copper and rose gold of the walls. Afterward he dressed and made the bed, tightening the cotton mattress sheet and then the silken blue one over it. He folded a corner of the tyrian purple coverlet so it was semi-open for him should the king want to return to it.

He was not expecting Hephaestus to be waiting for him by the dumbwaiter, but Ganymede bowed respectfully. The rough voice summoned, “Come here.”

The platform on which food should have been waiting rang with the gong of his hand patting it. Ganymede’s feet followed his order on their own accord, but Hephaestus saw his hesitation. “I have it locked. You will not fall.”

Without further ado, he lifted the youth to sit upon it. Ganymede yelped but the platform proved sturdy and the god was already unwinding his bandages. From one of his leather apron pockets, large enough to hold one of his hammers, he extracted a remarkably small jar. Unscrewing it with care, he tenderly applied salve onto Ganymede’s feet. He hissed and flinched at its burning, itching sensation. “It hurts.”

“Aye, it would,” he returned. “It’s meant to heal me. I imagine it will do you roughly for a minute.”

A minute indeed. The heat came from its rapid disinfectant and the itching from his skin stitching back together. Hephaestus dropped his bandages into a nearby brazier for disposal before he moved on to the other foot. He surprised Ganymede again by asking, “Why do you like him?”

His features opened. “His majesty?” To the god’s nod he answered, “He is kind to me.”

A sound came from him that could not be defined as pleasant. “Kindness for you but not his own son.”

Ganymede’s nerves were already on edge from the healing of his other foot. “He was not the one who threw you…and he sent for Asclepius, didn’t he?”

Hephaestus was contemplative. “Aye, suppose he did.”

Ganymede’s exhaled more easily. That had been a guess.

“That does not make it fair,” the god added. “I wonder where you learned kindness, because it wasn’t from him.”

Ganymede’s features drooped. “Why couldn’t it be from him?”

The god stood and dropped the other set of bandages into the fire. “Because he is selfish."

“So I’ve learned,” he muttered.

"But not like these other gods, my brothers and sisters.” Hephaestus’ grey eyes found him and with his unscarred side facing him, the resemblance of father and son was uncanny. “My mother said something to me after Asclepius patched me up.”

Ganymede suddenly did not want to hear this, did not know what he had done to warrant this attention.

“She said to me, ‘Now you look like your father. Just as pretty and just as vile.’ The only difference is you have a choice which side to act upon.”

Ganymede surprised himself by remaining still when one of those great hands cupped his face. He realized with odd clarity that the god was petting his hair despite the rough skin on his cheek and ear.

“Be careful, little bird. Control is an illusion, most of all to him. He is as volatile as the lightning he cherishes. You have been lucky to see his gentility when he has it, but I fear you will fall at his feet when he does not have it, and the worst part is it will entirely be an accident. Do not let your death be so trivial.”

He began to lumber with heavy steps to the stairs that led to his domain below. Ganymede swallowed quickly to moisten his throat. “Thank you!”

Hephaestus turned to him with his grotesque half and Ganymede did not look away. He simply held his gaze before the god continued out of sight. For a long moment Ganymede sat there, thinking. For some time those thoughts were as lost to the flames beside him as his bandages were, but he tore his sight from the brazier and wondered how to get food now. Perhaps Hephaestus had been waiting for him all morning and therefore had not cooked ambrosia yet. His stomach growled as he made his way to the one place he knew there would be something to eat.

“GANY!” Dionysus boomed, shocking his company with same power of voice Zeus had. “Come! Come! Come! We are deciding _pairings._ Do you know what those are?”

He rushed Ganymede into a plush seat and the latter found an array of cheeses, fruits, meats, and small glasses of wine spread out across the table. “This one!” a satyr beckoned, handing him a crumbling piece of white cheese topped with a grape and a strange sprig of greenery. Dionysus watched closely as he chewed and frowned.

“It was sweet but then there was something…tangy?”

“Wash it down with this,” Dionysus prompted, handing him one of the cups of red. It’s bitterness somehow cut through the tang and made everything sweet again. Next came a bit of smoked fish with a crisp white wine that he liked but he chose to eat whatever he could while drinking from the lone carafe of water after that. Before long, Athena of all people strolled into the room.

“It seems you are having a banquet to which I wasn’t invited,” she smiled.

Dionysus greeted her with a piece of pita baked to a crisp topped with cheese, fish, and the same piece of leaf Ganymede had disliked. “Tell me what you think of this.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You will do better with the basil.”

“Basil…” her brother murmured under his breath as he began piling new creations for his satyrs to try.

Meanwhile she sat beside Ganymede and placed her owl atop his shoulder. “How are you, Gany?” she asked warmly. “You gave us quite a scare last night.”

“I’m well,” he giggled, squinting as the owl nibbled on his ear. “I’m sorry for making a mess. I should have excused myself when I wasn’t feeling well.”

“No, no,” she waved the apology aside. “I have been telling father for years that he ought to quell the behavior of the demigods. They think because they have a superior parent that they can act like barbarous children their whole lives. Human children have more consideration than they.”

Her attention was drawn to another morsel held out to her. “I need your palette,” her brother decreed. She supplied it, chewing contemplatively. “The pink one.”

Dionysus had been chewing the same arrangement and washed it down with rosé. His eyes widened. “Brilliant.”

Athena frowned. “Why not seek your son, Oenopion, or one of the other agriculturally inclined gods? He shares your passion for drink and any of the others might have decent wisdom to partake.”

Dionysus glared at her, not to be trifled with in this matter. “If I want wisdom there is one and one alone whom I will seek. Now this.” He handed her a small bundle of fruits sliced like strings and wrapped in veal. She obliged and named one of the reds as it’s choicest partner.

The day progressed like this, with occasional visits from unexpected relatives, such as Demeter and of course Eros. The latter sat between Ganymede’s legs, resting his golden head on the knee while drinking whatever wine Dionysus tried to shove Ganymede’s way. Towards the evening Dionysus arranged a new plate and sent it to Ganymede for Zeus’s beside table snacks. “If his picky tongue enjoys each of these then we have accomplished something,” he said by way of reasoning.

So Ganymede piled it atop the finished plates of food from the dumbwaiter and went to the stairs leading to the king’s room—

The tilted eyes of a naiad looked up at him from where she kneeled. She smiled kindly. “It is a lovely sight to see you standing again.”

He blinked, guessing that she must have been someone present when he collapsed. “Thank you…do you need something?”

“No,” she voiced, “well, I was seeking his majesty but you seem to need assistance. May I?”

“No,” he answered instantly, surprising himself. But then, he found himself speaking from a spark of something he was unused to feeling. Suspicion? The naiad had stood, intending to grasp some of the plates but her hands fell to her sides, her eyes seeking an explanation.

“You’re not allowed in his rooms,” he supplied, and, “No one is. You know this. That’s why you’re waiting here.”

“You are,” she replied stoically. "Allowed, that is."

“I am his servant. If you wish for him, he will hear your prayers.”

Her head tipped to the side slightly. “He answers yours?”

Ganymede frowned. “He hears them all. If he does not respond, you are either able to answer your own prayer yourself or he cannot answer it.”

“He is a god, and the king of gods. There is nothing he cannot do,” she said readily.

“It’s not that simple,” Ganymede refuted. “The answer of one prayer could mean the desolation of an entire kingdom. It is not that his power is limited, but that it must be handled with care.”

She hummed over that, a fascinated smile curving her plump lips. “We would not know such a thing. To be born from the greatest of titans and then to rule over your equals is a great responsibility unknown to us. Thank you for explaining this to me.”

She clasped her hands and nodded to him. “I hope your recovery continues smoothly.”

He watched her leave with a mixture of perplexity and wonder. Unsure what to think, he chose to climb the stairs and perform his usual duties of shaving the king and relaying Dionysus’ latest humorous pursuits.

The following day Dionysus caught Ganymede on his way to collect food, firing questions as to what Zeus liked from the pairings. “He liked the mint and strawberries,” Ganymede shrugged, trying to recollect the previous evening.

“What of the sharp cheeses?” he demanded, setting down every plate and parcel Ganymede tried to pick up. “Did he say anything of the blue mold? It is a new practice of the humans, but certain cheeses take well to expiry.”

“I think he reached for the wedges and the creamier cheeses more than the crumbled ones,” Ganymede tried.

Dionysus waved that away. “Bah, his opinion on the tart things is irrelevant. His bloody sweet tooth. And the wine? Did he pair the wines properly?”

Ganymede’s jaw hung open as he shook his head, at a loss. “I fell asleep. I think he just drank his usual nectar with them.”

“Ahrgh!” Dionysus cried, thrusting his hands into his hair and spinning around, but more out of lament than anger. “Gany, Gany, Gany!”

He suddenly held the sides of Ganymede’s face, pressing himself nose to nose with him to contain his full attention. “There is no point without the wine! You will try again this morning and be successful! I will bring vessels of each vintage for you to pour, and you will hold him hostage if you must to thoroughly taste everything!”

He planted a wet kiss on his forehead and began marching away but Ganymede wondered, “Why don’t you just spend time with him yourself? If he can weather quality time with Ares, you should be a pleasure to him.”

“I have new things to create!” he declared as if his audience was more than one person. “Always looking ahead, darling, always ahead!”

Ganymede’s shoulder slumped as he scratched his head. He did not even know where Zeus was, having woken up alone as usual.

The initial amount of dishes was easy enough to get up the stairs and he arranged them around the room so the king could access them easily wherever he roamed. Upon returning for the wines, however, Ganymede accused, “This is more than yesterday!”

“I told you I am working on new things already!” Dionysus exclaimed.

“I can’t remember what drink goes with which food!”

“Let him figure it out!” Dionysus said. “Make him use a piece of intelligence for my benefit.”

He placed a new tray of assortments in his hands, and Ganymede decided to leave before the god sent him up with more. It was the ultimate test of balance climbing up the stairs with a tray of food piled with small bowls of sauces, and another tray devoted to thin decanters of wine while a pitcher of palette cleansing vinegar and lemon juice hung from Ganymede’s forearm. The lightest burden was Athena’s silver owl who had come to rest on his shoulder as he climbed. As much as he was used to carrying such an amount up these stairs, he did not usually do so more than once in a morning. Between the sloshing of wine, the rustle of food skittering across the dish, and his own heartbeat in his ears, Ganymede did not have the peace of mind to notice other sounds reaching him as he crested the stairs.

An indecipherable sound of a voice did stand out, though: a sigh, a hum, or a word, he could not tell. It was out of place, not deep enough to belong to the ruler of these rooms—

Ganymede turned the corner, and everything fell from his arms. Glass shattered, metal clanged, and pottery broke as he gaped at the king’s bed. The king’s bed. The very sheets Ganymede had slept on, now slithering underneath the lithe body of a woman. The contrast of her smooth slopes of leg and rear, the peachy almond brown of her flesh to his golden baked ridges of shoulder and back…

Ganymede was already running down the stairs, the owl shrieking ahead of him. He could not remember turning, fleeing, but his feet moved on their own while the image of Zeus bowing over the nymph stayed in his mind, burnt there like the circle of the sun. The sounds of his kisses on her mouth finally rang in his ears, the path of his exploratory hands warming her flesh prickling cold bumps across Ganymede’s own, and the repeated motion of hips between her legs thrusting and thrusting…

 _Dion…!_ he sobbed, _Please!_ the same moment a voice thundered above, _“GANY!”_

He fumbled and tripped on the last stair, but Dionysus was there catching him. Ganymede felt the familiar speed of a god and the gut wrenching nature of it. When he next opened his eyes he was then falling into Eros’ embrace, doubly protected by the god and Dionysus’ rooms. Eros collapsed with him across the floor cushions, simultaneously holding him and a bucket to catch his vomit and tears.

*******

Zeus heard the crash and drew his head up. It took far too long to remember the sound of breaking glass and to recall what that meant. _“Gany!”_ he cried, leaping from the bed and racing after him.

But he was not fast enough. _“GANY!”_

A hand blocked him, and he found Athena standing in the archway to his rooms. Her silent, unsurprised anger found the shocked naiad on the bed, and though the nymph’s mouth opened to scream, it was choked out before it began. All that remained of her was an insignificant bed bug that was already dying from the altitude.

“You must clean up the rest of your mistake,” she uttered softly.

He moved to knock her hand aside but she had already removed it and had moved to stand directly in front of him. “Have you ever noticed how he does not call you by your name?”

She was adding insult to salt already in a wound and he did not have time to think over her words or sew together a retort. Feathers bloomed across his flesh and he flew down the stairs, across the library and—

A massive paw slammed the eagle down to the marble. Just as Zeus had taken the form of the bird, he stood once more as a man, but the tiger all but lazily sauntered behind his master. Dionysus leaned against a pillar overgrown with ivy, facing his father. _“I will see him,”_ Zeus growled.

“You will not,” his son replied softly.

Zeus took a step, and just as Athena had done, Dionysus moved to stand before him. On either side of them, ivy and grape vines were curling over the floor, growing toward their master. _“Move,”_ the king warned. “Your rooms are in my palace and I will see him.”

“He has asked me to protect him,” Dionysus uttered in his soft purr. “And I will.”

Subtle though it was, it was a blow. Denied his cupbearer from Ganymede’s own request was something Zeus could not contest, and Dionysus knew this. He remained a moment longer should Zeus find something to say, but when he did not Dionysus stepped back for his vines to entwine into a wall between them.

*******

Dionysus entered his room and came to lie on Ganymede’s other side. Semele gracefully stepped near with a wet cloth in her mouth and he took it to clean Ganymede’s mouth and face before she went to guard the door with the tiger. The bucket had already been done away with.

It was a long time before Ganymede’s tears dwindled but Dionysus stroked between his eyes as Eros played with his fingers all the while. And when they ceased, the gods let the silence remain until he was ready to speak. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course,” Dionysus promised.

“Thank you.”

“You needn’t say so.”

“It was for Eros,” Ganymede murmured. “For…catching my sick.”

The corners of Dionysus’ mouth drooped but he met Eros’ gaze and they shared a laugh. “Well your humor is still present, that is a good sign,” he acquiesced.

“Now that your stomach is empty you should eat something,” Eros prompted.

“I’m not hungry,” Ganymede declined glumly. He did not trust himself at the sight of food.

“Drink something, then,” Dionysus offered. “I am actually very keen on mashing fruit of late. It fills the stomach better than the juice.”

Ganymede sat up to accept the goblet of plum colored mash and was pleasantly surprised by how easily it went down his throat. At some point the silver owl flew in and returned to his shoulder, nuzzling close to his neck and falling asleep. Eventually Ganymede slumped on the settee with his goblet held against his stomach, listening to Eros and Dionysus discuss events.

“It’s clearly been so long that he has forgotten tact,” Eros commented dryly. “Of course he may use his room as he likes, but his liaisons used to happen more privately on earth. Even though the humans still think the place is flat, the sphere makes it easy for us to hide.”

Ganymede blinked heavily, not wanting to think about each time Zeus disappeared, presumably to earth. Dionysus noticed and scolded, “Don’t put wild thoughts into his head, Eros! Everyone knows he’s been on his best behavior for the past few decades. Frankly, his relationship with Hera is better than ever because of Gany’s presence—”

“Dion!” Ganymede curtailed with finality. “The king likes women. He prefers _women,_ the same as Poseidon, the same as Hades. The assumptions that he wants me are wrong.”

Eros looked over his shoulder with a dubious frown. “More of a habit than a preference. The only wrong notions are ones that involve comparing Zeus to his brothers. That is an argument that has been discussed since Zeus pulled the other two out of their father’s bowels.”

“Let’s not get into that,” Dionysus finished as Ganymede stood to go to the veranda. Dionysus’ rooms looked out over a portion of the palace gardens, which looked far more tranquil and lovely than he felt. He leaned on the wall, his arms flopping over it so the goblet dangled from his fingertips.

Eros came up beside him, bumping him with his hip. “Perhaps this should have been asked from the beginning, but would you want him to prefer men?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled.

“Oh it matters,” Dionysus countered on his other side, lithely vaulting over the wall so he sat atop it. “You wouldn’t feel this way if it didn’t. This sensation is otherwise known as jealousy.”

Ganymede peeked up at him and then glanced at Eros for a second opinion. He nodded. He returned his forlorn gaze back to the garden. “What does this mean?”

“Oh, just that you want the great cock in you instead of that cunt—”

“He didn’t mean literally,” Eros cut off.

“Oh,” Dionysus finished. He drank the last of Ganymede’s goblet.

Eros provided, “It only means that you have arrived at the ability to admit your desires and talk about your cock. Congratulations.”

Ganymede slumped even lower, pressing his mouth against his folded arms. “We ought to celebrate,” Dionysus said.

“I don’t feel like celebrating anything,” he grumbled.

Dionysus blew a raspberry. “As a vain being, I was referring to celebrating _me_ , not you.”

Eros snorted. “There are two weeks until you become important.”

“Let’s go now.”

Eros and Dionysus looked down at the low voice. “Come again?” the latter uttered.

“Let’s go now,” Ganymede repeated. “What is two weeks?”

He met Dionysus’ gaze, who absorbed his countenance and then exchanged a look with Eros. “Well then…where shall we explore first?”


	5. Truths and Wisdoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before this chapter gets any longer, I'll just put this here lol

“Wear these,” Eros prompted.

Ganymede took the bundle but wondered, “Why? My clothes are undamaged.”

“They stand out,” Eros explained. “The colors come from expensive dyes that will spark unwanted attention, not to mention the style is out of place. Dion, help him.”

“Ta da!” the god himself entered with a flourish.

Eros sighed. “What part of _unwanted attention_ do you not understand?”

Dionysus appeared appalled and drew himself up to his full height. “I am the lord of this venture and shall play the part of benevolent aristocrat, inviting the little people to accompany him to the festivals! You are in my villa, after all.”

Eros’ gaze wavered between deadpan and murderous but he seemed to finally decide that killing Dionysus for wearing a purple shirt was beneath him.

Sure enough, though, upon leaving Mount Olympus Dionysus had knocked Ganymede unconscious so he could withstand the travel and he had reawakened in a much smaller dwelling by the sea. Ganymede had swayed to his feet to look out of the gaping windows to the rocky shoreline. The house was nearly encompassed by trees so the view was fringed with greenery but the air was thicker and smelled different here, infusing Ganymede’s senses.

Now he looked at Dionysus, who was twisting his hips to feel the flow of milky fabric around his legs. An ornate gold pin hammered to look like a bundle of grapes tied the swath of linen upon one shoulder, while a richly violet silk shirt covered the rest of his torso. Looking upon his own garments, Ganymede found a similar set, only the shirt was off-white wool and the toga was brown linen.

“And these,” Eros added when he had finished dressing. The soft leather shoes in his grasp had soles that curved up over the foot with wider straps than the flat patch of leather and thongs that made up Dionysus’ sandals. No sooner had he tied the shoes then he was running through the house. “Wait!”

“Where are we?” Ganymede called behind him. He sprinted up the stairs and swayed to a halt, surprised by how short the staircase was, and then lunged for the next window. This one was entirely overgrown by an olive tree so Ganymede redirected his path back downstairs—

He stopped in sight of the front door, which was open to let the midday breeze inside, and on the threshold sat a slim creature licking its paw. Something in the eyes reminded Ganymede of Dionysus’ tiger, but this animal was much smaller and stared at him keenly instead of the tiger’s lazy gaze.

A man entered, then, who scooped the animal up into his arms. “Hello. Don’t mind Pétra, here. She has claws but her weak spot is her chin.”

Sure enough, the animal lounged in his arms, stretching her neck to give his fingers further access. He smiled at Ganymede and approached. “Let her smell your fingers, and then you can pet her.”

“What is she?” he asked, doing as he bid. His fingers ticked against her whiskers.

“A cat,” came Dionysus behind him. “Not as majestic as my beast, but just as greedy for attention. Oenopion, you received my message?”

“Yes, father,” he nodded, and surprised Ganymede by lowering onto one knee. Ganymede watched, wide-eyed as the god approached his son and grasped his chin to tip it up, and pecked a soft kiss on his mouth.

“Now put the bloody cat down and welcome me properly,” he ordered. Oenopion grinned and Ganymede found himself with a handful of fur as the man stood to embrace his father and god.

He peeked at Eros and went to stand with him. “King Oenopion of Chios,” Eros explained. “Arguably Dion’s favorite because he also likes to cultivate vineyards.”

“King?” Ganymede exclaimed.

Eros shrugged. “It’s all the same. King of an island, king of a city…the only variable is the amount of land you hold.”

“Wrong!” Dionysus whirled around. “What matters is the effect of your influence over that land, no matter how small. How are your vintages?” he turned back to Oenopion.

“They are well,” he answered, still smiling. “The aged wines will be opened this year, and the samples we’ve had have proved promising.”

Looking at him now, Ganymede saw that he did indeed look like his father: the same wiry black hair, but the looser curls hung asymmetrically over one side to be out of the way instead of the mass Dionysus let bounce around his cranium. Oenopion was taller but not by much, and his skin had been baked by the sun, giving him the visage of an older, mortal Dionysus.

Pétra leapt from Ganymede’s arms and trotted silently out of sight. Oenopion noticed and voiced, “Forgive her. She is pregnant and can only stomach so much attention as of late.”

He stepped forward and extended his hand. Ganymede obliged and felt him grip his forearm. “Welcome to Chios, Ganymede, companion of the gods. You are welcome here as long as you like, and your secret is safe upon my lips.”

Ganymede wanted to smile but instead he blurted, “Secret?”

“The common people cannot know who you are,” Eros reiterated. He sent a glare to Dionysus. “Unwanted attention.”

“You are not allowed to rain on my festival, Eros. That is not in your power,” the latter countered as Oenopion released Ganymede’s arm.

“Your festival hasn’t even begun,” Eros scoffed.

Ganymede found Oenopion looking at him, which prompted the king to murmur, “Are they always like this?”

Ganymede shrugged. “Louder, usually.”

He laughed, revealing one of his molars to be missing. Ganymede blinked, unsure what to make of that, but a moment later Oenopion said, “Allow me to give you a tour of my island. Later on, if you have time we can sail to Lemnos, my birthplace—”

“Not Lemnos,” Dionysus intervened. “It is no secret I have a fondness for Lemnos, and seeing your mother would draw _too much attention._ ” He shot a look at Eros, who appeared mirthless.

“It’s too close,” he said bluntly.

The spite in Dionysus’ eyes dissolved, causing Ganymede to ask, “Too close to what?”

“Never mind what it's close to,” Dionysus reworded. “Lemnos is too _far_ from my City Dionysia. There is no point in going north, but a good day or two of sailing might be quite nice.”

Ganymede frowned. “Won’t the sea gods know I’m here?”

Oenopion assured, “The sea is vast and the gods are few. There isn’t much to draw their attention over here.”

“It does not bode well to underestimate them,” Eros rebuked.

“Argh!” Dionysus cried, all but attacking him with wandering hands and playful slaps. “When did you become such an overbearing parent? I am a god and I am telling you I have Athena’s cloak. We’re fine!”

“Her cloak?” Ganymede wondered, and then the familiar voice answered herself, “Yes…I do not recall lending you that.”

Oenopion gracefully lowered onto one knee again while Ganymede bowed at the waist. The goddess strolled into the house with her helm under her arm. Ganymede peeked into it and saw her owl sound asleep inside. “Rise, Oenopion,” she ceded. “Your hospitality is honorable but your father is predictable. Did you really think here was less obvious than Lemnos?”

Dionysus sighed, “As I have already said, I have your cloak, and Gany here has already been wearing it since we left Olympus.”

“What?” he squawked.

Dionysus waved a hand into the air, flourishing his words. “You are invisible to the world—well, to immortal eyes, anyway. Only those who have a thread of the cloak can see you.”

He pushed his hair behind an ear to reveal a resin stud in his ear, glimmering with a pearlescent thread knotted inside, finer than any hair. Eros wore a similar earring, and Athena further explained, “Invisible to all except she who made the garment, and it hardly matters. Don’t you think our father will know where he is when he sees an empty space between you and Eros?”

“Only with you harping about it so loudly,” Dionysus retorted. “Everyone knows you care for him. Your location is giving everything away—”

“I don’t want to wear it,” Ganymede exclaimed.

The gods looked at him. “I don’t want to wear it,” he repeated.

“Aye, we heard you the first time, but why ever not?” Dionysus wondered.

Ganymede did not know how to say it aloud without sounding foolish. “I…don’t want to wear something like this. My scars were hidden for years and I didn’t know.”

“Is it the not knowing that’s bothering you?” Dionysus guessed.

Ganymede’s hands went to his nape and backside, as if trying to find the invisible fabric. “I don’t like the thought of wearing it. I don’t want to hide.”

Dionysus pushed his hands down and said with patience, “Well without it, he will find you instantly. We need to hide you at least for the next couple of weeks until the festival. He is less likely to make a scene in front of so many humans. Everyone else will be able to see you; just be patient and you’ll forget it’s even there.”

But Ganymede was still hesitant. Eros stepped forward, gently but thoroughly shoving Dionysus aside. Taking both of Ganymede’s hands, Eros said, “The king needs time. Time to process his own mistake as well as your rejection, but as soon as he knows you’re gone…well, let’s just keep a weather eye open, yeah? We once told you that he is an adolescent when it comes to making love, but it is time he dealt with a lot of mature feelings. This is only for your safety while he uses this time for himself.”

Ganymede held his gaze steadily but his shoulders hunched when he inhaled deeply. After a long moment he nodded, and Eros draped an arm around him to pull him close. “Let’s go explore. Oenopion knows every inch of his island.”

Ganymede’s arms went around his waist, returning the embrace before he nodded. “Thank you for having us, majesty.”

Oenopion grinned. “A servant of the gods is a welcome guest in my home. You may forgo the formalities.”

And so the day progressed with the five of them helping Ganymede learn Chios. Outside of the palace Oenopion gave them a tour of his grounds. The estate was of course smaller than the gods’ palace but it was quaint and reminded Ganymede of his room; there was a certain…messy decoration to it all that proved it was lived in. He often spent so much time on others that he rarely cleaned his own room.

The villa was nestled on a rocky, seaside hill, so their journey took them downward into town. Rows upon rows of grapevines lined the road that was paved with stones until the whitewashed shops walled the streets. At this hour there were carts and tables staggered on either side selling fruit and wares that Ganymede had never seen. Earthen and silverware caught his eye, clay urns and plates that were unglazed or unpainted and wooden spoons with brittle knives.

As they waited beside a flower vendor, Dionysus was purchasing skewers of salted shrimp and Ganymede turned to find…Athena, but not the goddess he was used to viewing. Instead of the lustrous golden hair that fell like molten gold from her head, it was the color of sand or stone; instead of skin as spotless as a pearl’s surface, he now found freckles above a male figure. She had smaller breasts than many of the other goddesses but elegant curvatures that set her apart from her male siblings.

Her grey eyes found him and she…he smiled. “Women are not allowed in the agora, sweetling.”

He looked around the marketplace with fresh eyes, and she was right. This was odd to him. “Why not?”

“The most intelligent of the gods is a woman. It has become a cultural normality for women to be restricted to the home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ganymede squinted at her in the sunlight.

She laughed. “It does, in an unequal sense.”

Dionysus arrived with his bounty and handed out skewers. Ganymede stared for a long moment, looking between the humanized Dionysus and Eros before he saw scallops and shrimp on his skewer. Dionysus truly looked like a mortal brother of Oenopion while Eros, like Athena, had adopted Ganymede’s freckles. His golden mass of hair was equal parts frizz and ringlets, making him a lovely youth fallen out of bed.

Dionysus bumped his arm. “Are you going to stare all day or eat? These are actually quite nice.”

Obediently, he bit into a scallop. The other half fell off the stick to land by his feet but the white meat was a unique texture and chunks of garlic stuck to his lips. As he chewed his eyes widened and he pointed to his mouth until he could speak. “It’s hot!”

Eros was removing the shells from his roasted shrimp. “Peppers infuse the oil with spice.”

"Why do you remove the shell?" Dionysus observed. "It's perfectly edible."

Eros grimaced gently. "I don't care for the crunch. I like the snap of the meat just fine."

“This way,” Oenopion called. The streets widened to open upon a courtyard area. Various stone benches were around a fountain where people bent to have a drink. Ganymede watched them put a finger on the underside of the stone mermaid’s chin, causing the jet to find another hole that shot the water high enough for them to drink. Ganymede wanted to try it, so he sipped while men recognized their king and for a long while they waited for Oenopion to make his greetings and listen to whatever thoughts were brought to him. Soon enough he made apologies, excusing himself on behalf of his guests, and they rounded the corner to look upon a harbor. The docks were bustling with sailors managing their ships and cargo while others used oxen, donkeys, and carts to haul new goods to the market.

Ganymede beamed up at the seagulls floating on the breeze, screaming for the innards of fish to be thrown their way—

His sandal caught on something, bringing him to an abrupt halt. A nail.

Ganymede’s smile faltered somewhat before a rough voice broke his reverie. “Can’t risk clumsiness, lad.”

A sailor as large as the barrels he had been carrying knelt beside him and tended to his shoe. Ganymede saw the deft hands work despite cracks of dryness. Though his hands were dry, his bare shoulders and nape shined like dark oiled leather.

“Thank you,” Ganymede said once the sailor pulled his foot off the nail.

The sailor set his foot down and removed the hand from his ankle. The roughness reminded Ganymede of Hephaestus. “Not worth mentioning.”

As dark as his skin was, eyes as bright as the clear sky above them glanced at Oenopion, and with a nod to his king, the sailor returned to work. The king opened his arm to Ganymede, who joined him at the end of the dock. Below was a small mound of coral around which small fish were swimming. Oenopion seemed to have a curiosity for all things alongside wine, since he told Ganymede the names of the fish and gestured to the oyster bed before Ganymede ventured, “Everyone seems…informal around you.”

Oenopion nodded. “My land is larger than the other islands but it is intimate. I cannot say it is from my rule; more so an advantage of my parentage. Early in my reign, I had a problem with sailors and soldiers gambling. It turned into a bigger problem when they took into their minds to claim young women for their winnings but not as wives. Of course I warned them of Hera’s wrath, but brothels are not uncommon. The problem became such that women without affiliation to brothels were targeted. I could not tolerate this, and worse, I feared for the safety of my island’s priestesses.”

Ganymede’s brows lifted. “How did you solve it?”

Oenopion smirked. “I asked my father for guidance, and he said I already had the means to parch the festering waters. The following week, any man who drank wine from my vineyards felt himself rotting from the inside out. Since there is a small aqueduct running from my cellars to the agora fountain—you drank from the mermaid?”

Ganymede nodded.

“Well from her lips used to fall red wine. Now it is water. You can imagine how many consumed her poisonous blood.”

Ganymede was fascinated. “And the fountain is only available to the men…”

Oenopion nodded. “So the women were unharmed. Unfortunately my population was considerably trimmed, but my wine became known as Gods’ Mercy. You can imagine what this intrigue did for my trade.”

Ganymede laughed and peeked behind him. Eros was on the deck of the ship nearest to them, speaking to a young cabin boy while showing him card tricks. Athena stood by while Dionysus was raving over a wheel of cheese a sailor had unloaded from Lemnos.

“It’s hard to see what his anger is capable of just by looking at him.”

Oenopion guffawed and joined him in viewing Dionysus. “He is a connoisseur of all things that create happiness. Anything hindering such pursuits he has a low tolerance and little to no patience for. Have I bored you with my talking?”

Ganymede smiled up at him, shaking his head. Oenopion returned the smile as if relieved. “My children often tell me I speak too much about uninteresting things.”

“I’m older than most children,” Ganymede said offhandedly, and then considered, “Older than most adults, too.”

He turned to reunite with Dionysus and Athena, the former of whom handed him a chunk of cheese after purchasing the entire wheel. “Good, yes?” he chimed happily. “Oenopion, this will go divinely with your whites.”

His son chuckled and lithely followed after them. Eros joined them on one of the king’s personal ships, on which one of his sons was captain. The better part of the day was spent entertaining Ganymede’s fascination with the rigging and cabins; how things were nailed down or else furniture would toss and turn on the sea, how the knots and webs of rigging were strategic and full of specific purpose and not the mess they appeared to be. Athena descended with him into the deepest cargo holds which acted as a nautical stable. Hay and buckets for food and water waited to attend horses but Oenopion informed him that while in the port, the horses were comfortably grazing in the fields.

Athena leaned down every so often to add to Oenopion's tour, whispering small facts or even correcting them, causing Ganymede to giggle in her confidence. Dionysus seemed to have an abyss of a stomach, eating anything he came upon throughout the day, and then eagerly climbing the mountain back up to the villa for the dinner banquet. A woman with hair that reminded Ganymede of Zeus’s rose gold decorations greeted them, and introduced herself as Oenopion’s wife. She proved a kind and attentive host, but with such a demure aura that Ganymede often found himself staring. She was beautiful, certainly, but he could not decide if it was the gender segregation or her mortality that made her…lackluster. Once the servants were dismissed, the gods were free to take on their normal appearances, but Ganymede was used to everyone around him speaking their mind. Oenopion’s wife did not, and her silence was an empty seat at the table.

And then there were the servants themselves. Of course the gods of Olympus often had attendants; he belonged to Zeus, Poseidon was accompanied by his nymphs, Dionysus his satyrs, and most had their animal companions, but being waited upon was something Ganymede found ineffably unsettling. Watching them fill cups, hold plates, offer meat, and then remove dirtied dishes…and go completely ignored... Ganymede wondered if he was this way in a difference palace.

But he was not. Athena always had ears for him. Even Hera was keenly aware of him. Dionysus was never one to ignore a chance for conversation, and Eros did what he liked; relishing his discussions with Ganymede, especially in the presence of Zeus.

Zeus never failed to see him. Well, that was not necessarily true anymore.

Though his spirits took a dive during dinner, they were buoyed back up when he discovered how he was not to sleep in a bed alone. Sacks of feathers and cotton had been tied into pallets for the floor, and Dionysus threw himself onto the cushions with gusto. Eros shoved and manipulated his limbs so he did not take over the entire space, but soon enough the two gods were snoring softly.

Athena sat by the fireplace. Ganymede startled when something flew over his head, but her owl settled on her knee, nestling beneath a wing for sleep. She smiled at him, beckoning him to join her. “My beast never frightened you before.”

He crawled over Dionysus’ sprawled legs to sit cross-legged beside her. “Everything is different here,” he admitted, “but similar too.”

She nodded. “Your nerves are fragile at the moment. How are you finding it?”

Ganymede inhaled for speech but then exhaled, giving himself time to process the events of the day. “I think…I was caught up in the adventure. I don’t…I’m not sure I like certain things.”

Her chin dipped in her consent. “Humans are quite different from gods, whom you’ve grown and lived with, but we are remarkably similar too. Perhaps that is what disappoints you?”

Ganymede sighed, pondering. “There are certain fallacies that don’t make sense to me.”

“Then do not forget them,” she advised. “If there is one thing humans have in common with the gods, it is the dislike of being told they are wrong. Learn and see as you always have. You needn’t understand completely, but know enough to maneuver yourself and keep out of trouble.”

Ganymede frowned, and just as quickly his features opened, because he realized he had not expected to stay long enough to get into any kind of trouble. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Athena was right, his nerves felt frayed and on edge. Like her owl, he expected an eagle to fly in at any minute.

She read this in him and combed her fingers through his hairline, pushing the tresses off his face. They were curlier than usual, from the ocean’s humidity. “I’m here to keep that from happening to you.”

Ganymede avoided his anxiety by laughing, “I thought you were staying to watch over Dion.”

She sighed loudly, as if wishing her brother to wake up. “As often as he incurs trouble, he gets himself out of it just as easily. You are my charge.”

Ganymede’s mirth settled. “Is it a bother?”

She looked at him sharply. “It? You are never a bother to me, Gany. I enjoy every minute with you. It’s those two who fray my patience.”

He giggled again while looking at Eros and Dionysus. Before he could say anything else she ordered softly, “Go to sleep, sweetling. There will be much more to see tomorrow and the next day.”

So he crawled back to rest in between the gods; Eros rolled over as if sensing him and curled around him. The warmth and contact coupled with the god’s even breathing sent Ganymede right to sleep.

The next morning proved as interesting as Athena had promised, but probably not for the reasons she had meant. Ganymede and the others ate fruit in the villa before going into town for another exploration, but with a fresh gaze Ganymede saw everything as he had not seen it yesterday. The absence of women in the agora was just as foreign, and the seafood was not as fresh as when the naiads brought it up to the palace, still wriggling in their glass bowls slung over their shoulders with netting. Men were dirty and carts kicked up dust even on the paved roads. Ganymede felt himself coughing as well as stopping to rest before he could go on no longer.

Removing his sandals, he found his ankles bleeding from the leather rubbing away at his flesh. A cobbler noticed from his shop and came over with linens to bind his feet and ankles first underneath the leather. Oenopion paid him for his compassion, but the day proceeded at the set standard until they descended one of the mountains to a bay lined with black sand. Ganymede commented on how the beaches around Oenopion’s home were tawny sand.

“This is the only black shore we have,” he explained. “Depending on whom you ask, some will say it is cursed by a scorned lover of Poseidon or that Hephaestus blew soot from his forge which landed here. The children know better.”

Sure enough, a dozen and more children were frolicking in the clear blue waters, naked or almost. A couple fathers were with them, heaving boys over their shoulders to throw them into a shallow wave. For a while, Ganymede sat on the dark sand and watched the sunlight glisten off of their muscles, sparkling off of strained tendons and how water dribbled off of unsteady limbs. He could not remember a god ever faltering.

His eyes blew wide when a low moan blasted against his ear. He turned, flabbergasted, to Eros who was laughing with the conch shell in his hands. Even with his mortal visage, he shined with water droplets. His eyes were the same green that occasionally mixed with the blue waters; seaweed reaching for the sun.

“You’re so glum, old man!” he was guffawing. “Come on!”

Before he knew it, Ganymede was being stripped by Eros and Dionysus and then hauled into the water. “Be careful with him,” Athena warned. “He will burn like a lobster out of its shell.”

It was a moot endeavor. By the time they returned to the villa Ganymede felt raw and he had a slight glow to his skin. Athena rolled her eyes at Dionysus while she moved a pestle around a mortar, crushing things like aloe, mint, and butter together. She applied the salve herself to his face and shoulders until the servants were gone and she healed him instantaneously. With a warm gold cast to his skin, he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillows.

Their third day in Chios was spent in or on the grounds of the villa. Ganymede found a shady area beneath a row of vines near a cluster of trees and shrubs that stood like spearheads toward the sky. Dionysus and Eros joined Oenopion to harvest, press, and strain the wine of dregs while Athena laid with Ganymede with a pile of books between them.

By the fourth day Ganymede felt himself both getting used to being on the ground but also more foreign than ever. The air felt thick in his lungs, the humidity sticking in his chest as well as on his skin so he washed three times a day and slept the majority of the rest of the week. He no longer questioned certain things like what was eaten in the morning instead of at night or strict meal times, and he no longer felt odd surprise at seeing mortals around him, but then he would feel his eyelids sagging and the next he woke up, he was on a bed that was not his and staring at a ceiling what was not ornate arches and sky.

The end of the week brought a new adventure to them: sailing. Dionysus was eager to get to his festival and Oenopion’s wife was starting to look at Ganymede differently. Quiet she might have been but she was not blind to his symptoms. Before she started to ask questions, they boarded Oenopion’s ship and waved to him on the dock.

From his place at the bow, Ganymede hunched his shoulders when Athena suddenly covered his head with a wide brimmed hat. Oenopion’s son, the captain, joined them and commented how the growing storm was giving them a steady wind and favorable currents. The journey was likely going to be swift.

Ganymede folded the weaved brim of the hat up to glance at the sky. True to the captain’s word, the skies had been gradually covered with clouds over the course of the week, but he could not tell if it was the natural weather pattern or the work of a god.

Having the winds in his hair and caressing his face made Ganymede realize how much he missed these winds. They fiercely filled the sails and pulled at his hat but moved softly over his face, his eyelashes. He leaned on the thick railing of the ship, letting the ship and sea support his weight, squinting when salt sprayed his face.

“Are you sick?” Eros said beside him. Ganymede opened his eyes to find them alone apart from the sailors tending to the sails and deck.

“No. Just being.”

“That sounds strenuous,” Eros jibed.

Ganymede gave him a laugh but Eros’ hand rubbed between his shoulder blades and over his nape. “I feel your heart aching. You miss him.”

Having it spoken aloud made the back of Ganymede’s throat and eyes ache. He did not know what to say. Eros provided, “It’s all right that you miss him.”

Ganymede looked at him. “It is?”

Eros smiled consolingly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Ganymede looked across the sea once more. “Everyone has given plenty of reasons.”

Eros tipped his head to that. “Only because we haven’t brought your attention to the good reasons.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure it works that way. And I tried to focus on his good points myself.”

“Ahh,” Eros nodded. “But he broke your stamina. Well…if they are more trouble than they are worth, you have every right to walk away…although you don’t feel as if you’re walking away. Merely taking a holiday.”

They exchanged a look, the god smiling. “It seems he has not entirely wasted his worth, but now it is up to him to not royally fuck himself.”

The youth conceded a laugh. “You’re talking about your king.”

Eros shrugged. “I’m talking about my uncle. And when it comes to love, the only superior I have is my mother.”

Ganymede watched the wind tug at his curls, his visage straying between mortal and divine. “Can you do that? Choose?”

Eros grinned in all his golden glory. “What do you take me for, if not a god?”

Ganymede shared his smile but it did not reach his eyes, so he closed them and returned to feeling the sea and sky against his skin.

*******

“The first thing you need to know, is that your voice matters. These aren’t Oenopion’s people,” Dionysus said by way of introduction. “Yelling is encouraged.”

Ganymede sent a silent inquiry to Athena, who nodded. “Cities are loud.”

They were not wrong. However what made Ganymede’s eyes widen was the architecture. Chios was a port for trade but dominantly a rural island for cultivation. Athens was…a clash of everything he had ever read about.

Oxen carts occasionally blocked the streets of Chios but the mass of people that slowed their pace down the avenues of Athens was something else. Dionysus kept an arm around Ganymede as he said, “Worry not. My festival dominantly takes place outside of the city. We will only be here for sleep—”

Their heads turned toward a commotion which sounded like an argument. It had accumulated quite a gathering, causing Ganymede to ask, “What is that man unhappy about?”

Athena sighed haughtily. “The jeweler's wife’s lover had the stupidity to try and purchase a bracelet…for her.”

Dionysus threw a smirk back at her. “It’s your city, Minnie.”

Ganymede’s brows reached for his hair before he saw the effect the name had on the goddess. He hopped forward to catch up with Eros and grasped his forearm. The god put the arm around his shoulders, keeping him close while his other arm gestured toward the buildings. “That one there, it’s my temple. I would have preferred pink marble but it’s not like they actually ask us about these things before they build them. And that round one over there is a building for commerce…”

There were quite a few temples of various sizes throughout the city. There were several small shrines to Athena for citizens to come across, but Dionysus winked at him when Eros introduced the next structure as his temple. “Why lemons?” Ganymede wondered at the sight of the potted lemon trees outside of the entrance.

“The yellow flesh smells nice in this otherwise putrid city,” Dionysus declared, no doubt to annoy Athena. “The acid cleanses the pallet before they drink my wine during prayer.”

“We smell the sewers because we are at this low in elevation. Let us rise,” she summoned.

And rise they did. The stairs were nothing to Ganymede but in this thick, low-level air, both Eros and Dionysus held his arms as they reached the top of the acropolis. “The rains will wash out the sewage, relieving your lungs before the day is through,” she promised, but as the first drops fell, he stood in awe of her Parthenon. Undoubtedly one of the largest and palest of edifices, it was also incomplete.

“She will be a mathematical marvel when she is finished,” Athena smiled proudly.

Dionysus scoffed mildly, “You might want to give a better impression of yourself to your portrait sculptor instead of focusing on the numbers.”

Ganymede did not understand until they entered underneath layers of scaffolding. The only completed portion of the ceiling was for a massive statue of the goddess looming above them, and…to say it was in her likeness would have been an insult. Though the spearhead, shield, and armor were gilt with gold, the eyes were fashioned too large and too wide. They were black with onyx instead of steel. Her hair was long whereas she wore it short around her ears, and Dionysus put the rest quite succinctly:

“Did the man ever see a woman? It looks like he made a man and added breasts to it.”

Athena closed her eyes and inhaled for composure. “It matters not what it looks like. What matters is what people seek when they come here. This is not merely a temple to me. It is a sanctuary in times of flood or war.”

“Really?” Dionysus said dubiously as he stared up at some of the finished columns. “One good push and one of these will kill plenty.”

“I won’t have this discussion with you,” she finished, but when she turned around Dionysus whispered to Ganymede, “She’s sensitive about her home projects.”

“You’re pushy about yours,” he reminded, to which the god appeared flabbergasted.

Eros cut in before Dionysus spent a good deal of time defending himself. “Let’s get under proper cover and feed this one before the storm arrives.”

As soon as he said it, Ganymede felt how hungry he was, and the sky was just beginning to thrum with thunder as they made their way to the other side of the city. Athena’s abode was a villa set into the mountainside overlooking the city. As hungry as Ganymede was, he was relieved to not find any servants waiting for them. He and Eros dined on fruit and cheeses while Dionysus took over Athena’s kitchen, although whether they were cooking, battling, or arguing more was hard to say. Eventually a plate of spiced meat in flaky casing arrived, and neither Eros nor Ganymede dared compliment its taste for fear of sparking a new argument for whomever did the cooking.

Ganymede settled on the veranda to watch the rainfall over the city. Cast in greys and blues, the city appeared somber while the weather cleansed and played soft music over the tin and clay roof tiles. He looked down to see the commotion of adolescents playing in the alley beneath the cliff face, splashing mud and whatever else in each other’s faces before an older woman yelled at them from her window.

He reached his hand beyond the roof to catch the rain. Within seconds his palm was soaked and the drops slid over his wrist down his forearm while the watery orbs falling from his fingertips mesmerized his gaze.

The rest of the week progressed in a lazy blur. Ganymede observed the occupants of the city with a detached awareness. He watched young men mark women with their eyes, saw older men wrestle for sport and fight for anger. Women also fought but more often than not, they were occupied with some form of craft. Weaving cloth, cooking, even spinning molten glass into beads and hammering the chains for their necklaces. Though men took on the larger crafts such as forging weaponry and armor, Ganymede could have sworn he saw Apollo strolling through a garden in the company of women. He wore a cloth of choral red around his chest and his bright hair had grown long enough to deceptively braid off of his face. The god flashed a smile at him and continued on his way.

“Why would Apollo be here?” Ganymede asked his companions later that day.

Dionysus stood from his divan with a flourish only to be interrupted by Athena. “Music and the arts are his specialty. The Dionysia is just as much a celebration of him as it is of this fool.”

“But he was disguised among the women,” Ganymede said.

Eros shrugged from his place in the large windowsill. “The twins are androgynous and haven’t much of a care for gender. If you think about it, none of us has a gender. Choosing one helps us connect more with the humans.”

“Why are you male, then?” Ganymede asked.

“Because love transcends everyone, so it is embodied in both myself and my mother. It keeps further disparities from rising between men and women. Plus, I made myself in the image of the most beautiful vessel I could manage.”

He knelt down to grin inches from Ganymede’s face, inducing him to palm that smile and shove him away. “We don’t look entirely alike.”

“No,” Eros admitted. “Either Zeus or mother would ruin me otherwise.”

 _“Mama’s boy,”_ Dionysus crooned from where he had collapsed back on his divan.

Eros threw his goblet of wine at him. Dionysus licked red from his lips. Ganymede giggled but could not help but ask, “Why am I considered beautiful?”

The room fell silent while the gods contemplated that. Eros and Athena exchanged a long silent dialogue before Eros replied, “Beauty is entirely subjective and it includes aesthetic as well as internal appeal. The most powerful spirits in this world adore you: Zeus and Athena.”

"What am I?" Dionysus whined.

Ganymede gave him a thankful smile but looked to Athena. He found her looking away. Her profile was elegantly sculpted, her eyelashes softly dusting her cheeks. She looked quite young in the fractured light.

Eros continued, “That’s not to say that Zeus cares for appearances while she only values the mind. I can feel what kind of love rests in a being’s heart as well as at what severity it lives. I will admit that feeling the king and his favorite child’s adoration of you sparked my interest but…it became apparent why they cherished you so. You wield every strength we have but lack all of our weaknesses.”

His words hung heavily in the air. Ganymede felt hollow. “But that’s not true. I feel jealousy as strongly as Hera and…anger comes more easily than it should.”

Athena looked at him suddenly. “Right there. _That_ sets you apart.”

He blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Dionysus yawned. “Intelligence is sexy. For some reason it’s taking three gods to say it. You’re ticking off all the things on our picky king’s list without even trying.”

Eros intercepted before Ganymede asked, “He does not actually have a list. Dion means that you keep sweeping the metaphorical rug out from under a king’s feet. And he likes it. You’re adventurous, curious, and erotic. I’m nearly hot for you.”

A laugh barked from Ganymede’s throat before he sputtered. “Erotic? I’m not—”

 _“You are,”_ Dionysus and Eros cut off together. The former rolled off the furniture to crawl towards him.

“You’re the only virgin in here. Don’t be fooled—Athena doesn’t care for phalluses, but that doesn’t make her a virgin. You can just say it.”

He was nearly in Ganymede’s lap, and perhaps it was because Ganymede did not really expect him to do it, but he was promptly proved wrong.

Dionysus kissed him on the lips while his hands found Ganymede’s thighs. His thumbs pressed into the inner flesh while the youth’s eyes blew wide and blinked several times. The sensation on his mouth was incredibly soft and tickling…Ganymede did not realize his lips had parted until Dionysus pulled away only to initiate another kiss. Ganymede’s heart vibrated in his chest, suspended as he realized a tongue was sliding along his lips.

He pulled back with a loud _smooch_ sound while Ganymede sat just as frozen as he had from the start. Dionysus surprised him by rising to kiss his temple and then went to sit with Eros on the window.

“I won’t defend you when he comes for your head,” Athena warned, but mirth was in her tone.

Dionysus closed his eyes against the breeze and the fresh drizzle coming through the window. “I’m not concerned. What are my lips compared to his beloved’s? My hands are small and insignificant compared to those that hold lightning. Zeus will be glad for Gany having some knowledge of kissing from a benevolent source. Perhaps you finally have good material to find your orgasm tonight.”

Ganymede felt himself blush from his hairline to his heart, and he doubled over to hide it in the fabric around his legs. The gods laughed at his embarrassment, but then Dionysus startled in the windowsill. Swinging his legs over to step onto the veranda, he shouted, “It’s started! It’s started!”

Ganymede wiped his mouth as he stood and joined him. “What’s started?”

“The parade! They’re marching!”

In the distance, Ganymede could just see the fluttering fabrics on the ends of poles bobbing through the main thoroughfare. “Where are they going?”

Athena answered while Dionysus ran out of the house, “To the amphitheater. The people are paying their respects to Zeus for raining now so the skies will be clear for the rest of the festival. I imagine we are in for a great deal of livery.”

“Come on, turtles!” Dionysus yelled up at them from the street below.

Outside and up close, the parade was a long body of color. Shirtless men had painted their bodies and wore headpieces to look like satyrs along with—

Ganymede’s eyes bulged, “Why are they wearing…”

“The satyr plays are tonight!” Dionysus cheered. “The phallic erectus makes the serious figures sardonically hilarious. It gives the people permission to laugh at their heroes and politic leaders.”

Ganymede’s expression was caught between a closed smile and a grimace as he watched the men dance and do tricks with the long wooden erections hanging between their hips. Though the size was largely inaccurate, he could not fault them for their purpose. The ludicrousness of it all soon had Ganymede laughing as Dionysus pulled him into the parade. A woman with a bowl of blue paint adorned his cheeks and eyes before Ganymede realized she was Apollo. Someone else handed him a half mask. Eros tied it for him with a mask of his own already over his green eyes.

Out of the city and across hills they marched, writhed, and danced. It was only when the parade turned that Ganymede could see their destination: a large dais set deep within the earth while rings of seats lifted out of the crater like a rippling cone. The parade encircled the top of the amphitheater before breaking apart as people descended the stairs to find their seats. Ganymede sat between Eros and Athena as he took off his mask to rake his hair back.

“Where did Dion and Apoll—”

Athena pointed to the stage, where Apollo gathered everyone’s attention by playing a massive horned instrument. His music introduced an energetic figure dancing and acrobatically twisting to the center of the stage. From his full mask hung strings of seashells and metallic ribbons, but it was Dionysus’ booming voice that reached them.

“People young and old, let our tales reach your ears. Let our sorrow fall from your eyes and our mirth lift your voice. For today marks the start of one of many sojourns with the gods, an exploration through time, and an occasion to admire the history we share. Listen well and mark our words, for in humor rests truth. In tragedy rests wisdom, and it is our pleasure to bring them all to you.”

He said more to introduce the first story and the language made Ganymede’s eyes widen. His cheeks ached from smiling as the actors costumed as satyrs swarmed the stage. Their acrobatics enclosed Dionysus from view, but when they separated only his mask remained on the stage floor. The crowd went wild for it, but Ganymede suspected they thought it was a clever ruse whereas the actors momentarily stared at one another.

His chin jerked to the side to see Dionysus joining them. “Nothing like a little magic to get their attention,” he grinned. He leaned in close to Ganymede, “What do you say to joining me on stage later?”

His jaw went slack. “I…” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“You wouldn’t say anything,” the god assured. “We could be a part of the chorus to dance and sing.” He winked. “I’ll find the right place, don’t you worry. I’m thinking the day after tomorrow during the comedies…”

Ganymede listened to Athena provide the history of the characters in the play, illustrating why a figure was a source of more comedy or disdain than another. He quickly picked up how the Athenians held both a high esteem as well as extreme discord with the other Greeks, Spartans in particular. When he asked Athena about this she rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if he had touched on a jaded nerve.

The rain lightened but the skies never fully cleared by nightfall. Ganymede enjoyed the satyr plays but returned to Athena’s villa to rest his eyes and eat, but Dionysus pulled him back outside to find the city alight with torches that lined the road to the amphitheater. Pots of oil and wicks sat along the stage for dancers and musicians to be seen but in the hills sloping between the theater and city were hubs of festivity. Tall awnings were sporadically set up along the dirt road to protect platters of fruit and roasted fish from the drizzle. Ganymede and Dionysus lingered along a portion of paved road where barrels of wine and inexpensive ale were being uncorked. The flat space seemed to be a gymnasium since rocks set into the dirt marked wrestling areas and occasionally there were bars for gymnastic activity.

Dionysus wrinkled his nose at the amber fluid. “Try it if you like but if barley could piss, it would taste like that.”

“It’s actually quite nice with a bit of fruit,” Eros interjected beside them. Ganymede accepted his glass and noticed the chunks of lemon and orange within before he sipped.

The gods and some of the humans laughed at his startled reaction. “Why—” he coughed. “Why is it…?”

“The fermentation causes carbonation,” Eros laughed, patting his back.

Ganymede recovered and wiped the startled tears from his eyes. “I’m not sure I like that.”

One of the men who had opened the beer barrels reached over with a fresh glass. “Water and wine with a bit of orange. It might be more for your tastes.”

“Thank you,” he said, washing down the scratchy tingles before Dionysus exclaimed, “They’re dancing! Remember what I taught you?”

Wine splashed out of his glass when Ganymede was pulled to the crowd of people dancing in a circle but Eros took it from and their cups vanished in favor of a long length of fabric handed to them. Dionysus leapt right into the center, spinning to the music. It reminded Ganymede of when they had danced in Dionysus’ room with his satyrs…before—

“Zeus’s cock! Can you believe this?”

Ganymede startled, losing his step in the dance as he looked behind him. Men who were far more than drunk were speaking in such a way that he could not tell if they were angry or boisterous. He leaned toward Eros, “Why did they say that?”

The dance drew them far into the circle and to the other side. “It’s a method of cursing. Apparently whatever he thought was of such a magnitude that he had to use a god’s erection to describe it.”

Ganymede stared bluntly at him before Eros’ visage broke. They laughed together and became swept up in the music. “That’s silly, isn’t it?” he asked when they parted from the festivity to rehydrate. Ganymede lifted the fabric of his attire to dry his face of sweat.

Eros laughed as he drained his cup. “We can’t all be as poetic as Apollo. Have you ever thrown one of these?”

A number of abandoned discuses lay in the dirt, except for the one Eros threw. It skidded to a halt in the roots of a tree on the other side of the field. Ganymede reached for one but it was heavier than he anticipated. Eros demonstrated how to twist his body, to spin in order to gain momentum before he released it. The discus did not go nearly as far, nor did it land gracefully.

As Ganymede watched it roll and roll farther away the man who had first given him his beverage came over to suggest, “You need to release it so the air catches underneath it.”

Ganymede jogged forward to retrieve the discus and try again—

His fingers froze in the air. Heat engulfed his vertebrae like molten fingers closing around his spine. He shivered as the sensation trickled up his nape and pooled somewhere in his tailbone.

“Ganymede.”

The voice hit his heart like a peel of thunder even though he spoke softly. Ganymede was afraid to turn around, afraid of what would face him, but when he did Zeus stood in the dirtied attire of a festival attendant with a soft smile on his lips. Ganymede’s eyes darted around him and landed on Eros and Dionysus on the other end of the field. They appeared to be swinging their legs over the parallel bars, competing with one another and completely oblivious to him.

“Y-You can s-see me?”

The god approached him. It had only been a handful of days but Ganymede felt his height towering over him as if he had forgotten. Zeus’s hand wavered in the air, gesturing as he said, “Your outline is blurry, but yes. Of course I can see you. I’ll always see you.”

Ganymede swallowed and said slowly, “You’re not angry?”

Zeus shook his head. “I was, but no longer. I understand why you left.”

He averted his eyes as Zeus reached forward. He felt fingers briefly touch his hair. He knew Zeus was lowering the hood of his invisibility shroud. His chin fell close to his chest but those fingers hooked under his jaw. “May we walk together? I wish to speak with you.”

Ganymede lifted his face but not his eyes. “You needn’t ask me, my king,” he mumbled.

He chuckled, then. “I will not enforce you.”

“Why not? It is within your power,” he said in a monotone.

The fingers on his jaw stilled and left his skin feeling cold. “Are you so unhappy to see me, Gany?”

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “Have you been with us the entire time?”

Zeus did not answer immediately, causing Ganymede to look up and find guilt on his face. “Yes. I would never let you wander the human realm alone, even with three gods.”

Ganymede slouched as he stared up at him. “Were you all of those people? Has every piece of kindness I’ve received been from you?”

Zeus scratched behind his ear. “Of course not. Oenopion and his family were more than hospitable.” He peeked at Ganymede glaring at him and defended, “As if I would allow a sailor’s hands to touch even your feet.”

“But would any of them have even offered to help me?” Ganymede countered. 

Zeus’s head tilted. “Do you not think so?”

He was far from sure, and voiced this. “I haven’t often seen a difference between the men and boys or women but they fabricate distinctions that don’t make sense to me. They’re capable of such architectural deeds but the streets are dirty. People argue over foolish opinions and lies…”

Zeus’s head lowered in agreement. “I said once that they are learning. The progress is slow but certain. We must be patient with them.”

Ganymede glared at him and the god had the grace to turn the corners of his mouth down. “We. I’m supposed to be one of these people. I can’t connect with them at all.”

“Is that so wrong?” he questioned.

He had Ganymede at a loss for thought. “I…isn’t it?”

“You don’t live with these people,” Zeus reminded. “You live with me.”

“But I’m one of them, aren’t I? As close as I am to the gods I will always be human first.”

“To put it as honestly as I can,” Zeus began, “when you fell from me, my touch ruined you of all that.”

Ganymede frowned, perplexed. Zeus absorbed his countenance before he closed the distance between them and Ganymede stood statuesque as a hand slid down his nape under his shirt. The god’s voice soaked over him like rain, “It would be easier to let you think my eagle left these scars. I should have let him do it, but I have always had this fault. When I want something, I reach for it myself. My fingers carved into you when I stole you.”

His other hand disappeared inside the folds of his clothing, finding Ganymede’s hip and startling him when it wandered over the bone and round flesh alike. “Have you looked at these properly? I can’t blame you for thinking it was the eagle. You were elusive and not all of my fingers could reach you.”

Ganymede’s hands had risen to clench his fabric, but the unimpressive linen flushed deep red. If he had blinked he would have missed the human garment lengthening into a god’s garnet himation. Zeus’s hands traced each scar on his flesh, first on his hip and ass, then up his lower back and across his spine. The hand resting between his shoulder blades marked the last one rising along his shoulder and nape.

“Why me?”

Zeus inhaled the scent of his hair. “It cannot be explained why we want the people we want.”

And then Ganymede stepped away from him. The king retracted his hands easily. “Then that’s it? You have me and then you have someone else?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Zeus said pointedly.

“Obviously, yes,” he challenged.

“I was with no one for all the years you were in my home, Gany, except the once.”

He sighed haughtily and went to pick up the discus, if nothing else than to put distance between them. Holding it tight against his wrist, he whipped around and released it. The air took it far across the gymnasium…and landed it in the branches of a tree.

“Better,” Zeus conceded. The look Ganymede threw at him was pitiless, causing him to say, “You appear to be expecting something.”

“Of course I’m expecting something!” he erupted, finding new anger inside him. “I’m led to believe that you’ve kept me for your plaything only to be discarded, and then—”

“You were never my plaything,” Zeus declared firmly.

“Then why does this hurt!” Ganymede exclaimed. The words hung suspended in the air between them. His lips were parted as if wanting to summon them back into his lungs. He rushed away.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the stupid discus,” he murmured.

“When was the last time you climbed a tree?” Zeus wondered behind him, following lazily.

“I don’t know! Wait—” he whirled around, halting the god in his tracts. “You mean you wouldn’t have known if I climbed a tree while I was here?”

“Well I thought to give you _some_ privacy when you were in safety of the villas...although there aren’t many with trees inside them.”

Ganymede retreated onto his heels, his features opening. “So you haven’t seen—never mind.”

Zeus frowned. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“Gany.”

“You’re possessive! I thought you would have come here because you were unhappy about…others spending more time with me,” he answered strategically.

Zeus’s eyes narrowed upon him. “What would I have seen?”

“Don’t change the subject!” he countered. “You’ve spoiled me against this place! You’ve made it so that I can’t dwell here without quickly growing bored out of my mind! You’ve kept me in a clean palace where I want for nothing so now I can never return here and live comfortably!”

“I’m…sorry?” Zeus tested.

“No you’re not!” he burst. “You’ve probably been waiting for me to pray to you to come and get me.”

Zeus’s eyes lifted off of him, gazing off at the prospect wistfully. “As nice as that would be, you’ve only prayed to me out of fear and desperation. If that is the cost, I never wish to hear your prayers again. Are you truly unhappy here? One word, a gesture, and I will take you from here.”

He sighed, looking afar at the festival and hearing the music. “No, but it’s not what I expected. My memories of this place are entirely different.”

Zeus gazed at the sky as he said, “Well, you were born and raised in a palace not unlike my own. You’ve never known people quite like this.”

Something inside him felt…relieved by this. “Where am I from?”

“North.”

“Define ‘north’,” he requested.

“Northeast.”

Ganymede turned around and reached for a branch—

“Troy,” he finally consented. “North of Chios. North of Lemnos. Troy.”

His cupbearer turned back to him. “I’m not Greek?” His grip slipped off and he lost his footing gracelessly. Zeus was beside him in an instant, holding him steady.

“No, love. You’re Trojan, before Troy was even the stronghold it is now.”

Ganymede brushed nonexistent dirt form his clothes. “Is anyone I know still alive?”

Zeus guffawed, “Oh alive and more. Your nephew, Priam, has quite a family, larger than my own and still growing.”

A smile teased Ganymede’s mouth before he voiced, “Would he remember me? Recognize me?”

Zeus was somber. “He is known by his people and counsel as an intelligent king who never forgets a good man or an honest enemy…I haven’t any doubt he would remember you. To recognize you though, I cannot say.”

This would be when Ganymede would trace the gold veins in the carafe he carried, or reached out to stroke the feathers of Athena’s owl, Semele’s fur. Without these he worried the cloth around him between his fingers until Zeus took his hands in his own, lacing their fingers together.

Ganymede looked up at him. “Were you never going to reveal yourself to me or was this planned?”

He smiled softly, looking over Ganymede as he said, “Spontaneous. While my children are otherwise preoccupied.”

Ganymede’s eyelids dropped to half-mast as he saw how Athena had been called over to judge Dionysus and Eros’s gymnastic ability. Zeus laughed, “You can’t fault them. They can be swept up in their own festival—” Ganymede shivered slightly, “—Are you cold?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone breathes with this humidity—”

Fabric enclosed his shoulders. He faced Zeus’s bare torso while he was swathed in garnet. The king’s waist and thighs were still covered by a pale garment but otherwise the warmth of his bronzed skin glimmered in the faint lantern light. As he tied the himation around him, Ganymede was pulled close enough for a kiss to press on his forehead. “The night looks lovely in your hair, don’t mind it.”

His parted lips closed, pressing together. “I can’t keep this,” he said quietly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Something about expensive dyes.”

“Ah,” he nodded slightly and then, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I hurt you still.”

Ganymede’s hair pressed against his chest, his cranium heavy and resting against the god’s heart. “Why did you want her?”

Arms enclosed around him, body heat melting through his shrouds. “Because it was easy.”

The familiar ache in the back of his throat bloomed, turning his stomach so he felt sick. Zeus’s hand found his nape, massaging there gently while his fingertips dragged up into his hair. “Please forgive me. It is difficult to admit that the boy I stole on a whim grew into a beautiful man. I have struggled to know my place in your life as much as you have in mine. You serve but you are not servile. You are not my pet but not quite my companion either. I have had many children and yet you are the only child I’ve actually raised. Nothing I have ever done regarding you has been easy. I suppose I never expected for you to love me much less to ever want me in that way.”

“Is that why you took me?” Ganymede asked, his voice raw. “For that?”

“No. No, never.” Zeus turned his face up so their eyes could meet. “I took you because I am selfish and cruel. Wanton and foolish, and I wanted someone to drag anything good left within me out for my own blind eyes to see. I have failed in the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself…to not harm you, and yet that’s all I ever seem to do.”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

Zeus smiled, his hand coming around for the pad of his thumb to trace Ganymede’s lips. “And I’ve never deserved you.”

“Then try harder,” he grumbled, turning his face into Zeus’s palm. “I can’t believe I missed you.”

Zeus chuckled in Ganymede’s hair. “I missed you as well. More than you know.”

“You’re not angry with Eros, Dion, and Athena?”

“No…” He stood up straight. “But that makes me wonder why you have never called me by my—”

“Oh fuck.”

Zeus grinned. “Well, so kind of you to notice, finally.”

Ganymede looked over his shoulder at Dionysus gaping at them. Eros sat with Athena on the bars, who appeared mildly surprised but mostly bored. Suddenly Dionysus proclaimed, “You can’t take him back before he sees the comedies!”

“How did you not notice?” Ganymede wondered. He flapped the red fabric like wings. “How could you miss this?”

Eros tapped his nose in agreement. “In my defense, I had a genius to prove wrong.”

“I wasn’t wrong!” Dionysus argued. “My technique is flawless and inventive!”

“That’s how,” Athena murmured.

Meanwhile Eros lethargically countered as he swung off the bars, “I am superior in this, Dion, don’t bother. My father put me on parallel bars instead of giving me toy soldiers the day I saw sunlight.”

“Ah. And was that before or after you tore yourself off your mother’s teats?”

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Eros dismissed as he gripped Dionysus around his waist and pivoted his weight so they rolled onto the ground.

Athena cut in, “You know, it is a comfort that there is an adult among us. It’s only a disappointment that it’s Gany.”

“It’s not such a surprise you missed me, now,” Zeus murmured beside his ear, lowered as he was to put his arms around Ganymede’s waist.

However the youth narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t be arrogant about it.”

“I’ll feel as happily as I want that you were bored without me.”

His gaze turned deadpan. “You're right, it’s not a surprise anymore.”

Zeus’s countenance fell. “It took three gods to replace me and you were still discontent.”

“You know that’s not why I was unhappy, you idiot—”

Zeus was smiling.

Ganymede removed the himation and threw it over the god’s head. “Never mind. I’m leaving.”

Zeus pulled the cloth off, “Gany…”

“Don’t follow!” he pointed a finger at him and then continued on his way.

“Gany, the villa is that way.”

He stopped, and reevaluated his surroundings. The music was on one side and the beer and wine was on the other…they came in with the latter on the right side…

He shot a dagger at the silent gods as he rerouted and marched back to Athena’s villa.

“He could have just acted like he was going back to the amphitheater,” Dionysus voiced.

“He’s lived in the sky his entire life,” Athena provided. “His internal compass is nonexistent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit I was doing some searching with this one but I am EXCITED for the next one :D


	6. Choose

Ganymede had much to think over.

He landed on the palettes with equal parts chagrin, concern, and jubilation. Zeus was not angry. That gave him relief beyond measure but now he had new things to fill his thoughts, and they regarded him more than they concerned Zeus.

He missed him… a lot. Even now, minutes after seeing him, Ganymede ached for his closeness and not unlike his vivid garments, the god added luxury and color where he did not know he needed it. More than being spoiled, Ganymede saw everything in neutral bland colors, lackluster and unfulfilled.

He pulled the blankets around him, curling around himself as another figure arose in his mind: Hera. Zeus’s queen was not ignorant to his liaisons but their relationship was stronger than ever because of his self-induced celibacy. But the king said he had been with no one since he had Ganymede…not even Hera?

His eyes opened in the darkness. He had spent so much time worrying about Zeus’s feelings toward him that he never properly considered this result. He had never considered having sex with anyone…or rather anyone else, and that realization made him bury his face in the pillow.

Was it worth the trouble of risking Hera’s notice? Or any of the gods for that matter. Ganymede wanted to discuss this with Athena but also just wanted to abandon the matter to slumber.

The next time he opened his eyes, he found this was exactly what he did. The morning light was shining through the window upon him while Eros and Dionysus slept on either side of him. Ganymede could hear the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen while Athena cooked breakfast as he sat up…

A red poppy rested above his pillow, the scarlet petals radiating with Helios’s light through them. The long green stem still had its scraggly roots on the other side. A black vase with golden veins sat on the windowsill, empty and waiting. Standing with it in hand, he submerged the roots in the water.

Wiping sleep from his eyes as he entered the kitchen, he found a platter of eggs ready to eat with fruit, bread, olives and hummus. Athena smiled at him. “Have your thoughts calmed?”

He yawned as answer and pointed to the food. She understood and shoved the eggs and pita bread toward him. But then she surprised him with, “These are for you.”

With a mouth full of grapes and bread, he looked up at the small pile of fresh raiment on which her hand rested. He unfolded a new shirt of white and soft material but at the shoulders it was not sewn shut. The sleeves were tied so there were peepholes through which his skin could be seen. A medium sized fabric was dyed a faint shade of red, like a mild version of Zeus’s own himation which would hang around hips swathed in his familiar baggy trousers. On the waist and ankles was a design in green thread.

While his thumbs were exploring the fabric, Athena set something else on the table: new sandals, this time made of fabric instead of harsh leather all but for the soles. He met her gaze with inquiring eyes and she shrugged with a smile. “He’s probably been waiting two weeks to give you these. I’m just proud of his patience.”

His lashes swept over his cheeks. He supposed this was Athena’s standpoint on the matter.

Dionysus entered with a wide yawn and slumped beside Ganymede, eating off of his plate instead of getting his own. Finally Ganymede noticed that his behavior was more than grogginess. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ask,” Athena intervened. “The tragedies are today and he will be annoying the entire time.”

“Just because I allow myself to feel emotion regularly does not mean I am annoying!” he defended. “Let’s see you not succumb to catharsis today. It’s healthy, you know.”

“I will at least retain my dignity throughout it,” she countered.

“Dignity is subjective,” he grumbled, munching on pita slathered in hummus.

Eros joined them soon after, bright eyed and bushy-haired as he popped fruit into his mouth. Athena commented on this while Dionysus lamented. Eros shrugged indifferently. “Love hurts. It’s my profession.”

Foreboding entered Ganymede’s belly. “Are the tragedies about love?”

“Not necessarily,” Athena provided, whereas Dionysus cried, “Yes!”

She shoved him aside so he fell on the floor. She took his seat. “Usually love or pride is what drives the characters’ actions and it’s supposed to be this intricate lesson on humility…it is a treatise on the war between emotions and intelligence.”

Dionysus harrumphed and drew himself up on his elbows. “How dare you talk about pride and say something like that! There is a difference between hubris and passionate priorities.”

“When those priorities involve others getting killed, the line between them and hubris fades, Bacchus.”

Ganymede’s brows lifted. He had never heard Dionysus called this but the god lounged on his side, propping his head up. “They only die because they are mortal.”

Athena gave him a look. “Yes, this is a slight malady for them.”

Dionysus giggled. “Poor Hades. Eventually all kingdoms collapse into his and no one wants to be there. The lad needs to boost his reputation.”

“There is nothing wrong in fearing death,” Athena scolded softly.

He poked her waist. “Is that why you climbed out of papa’s head?” This dawned an epiphany in his eyes. “Actually, you’re one of the few of us who has seen Thanatos. Usually only the dead can see him.”

Ganymede watched her eyes darken, not unlike her father’s when he was angry or uncomfortable. “You have to be dying or dead to see him,” she acquiesced. “Which makes you an abnormality.”

Dionysus appeared smug at that, but Ganymede wondered, “Because of Semele?”

He winked. “I won’t reveal my secrets.”

This was fine with Ganymede. The more they discussed the god of death, the more uncomfortable he became. “When will we go to the amphitheater?”

Eros nudged his shoulder. “I’ll go with you now, as soon as you’re presentable.”

So he quickly ate and dressed in his fresh garments. He relished how the wind passed through his clothes, cooling him off instead of the fabric capturing the heat and hanging over him. It also helped that the sun only shone directly on him sporadically throughout the morning. At one point he lifted an eyebrow at the thick moving clouds, observing how Zeus was on his best behavior.

They missed the first play but to be quite honest, Ganymede did not fully understand the tragedies. It just seemed to be a regular story in which one or more of the characters died. When he voiced this to Athena she nodded and murmured to him, “To be fair, the writing is not of such caliber as some of the others. They must be saving those for later.”

Encouraged by this, they ventured back into Athens to explore the market and temples before the afternoon heat broke and they returned to a much more crowded amphitheater. Everyone around them seemed keenly interested in the story unfolding, so much so that they cheered and reacted when characters appeared onstage. Ganymede leaned into Eros. “It seems like they know this story already.”

“Of course,” the god nodded. “Everything we have seen and will see is already known.”

“Then why go through the trouble of making all of this for stories they have already heard?”

Eros laughed with a congenial lift of his shoulders. “The people like what they already know, the familiar. And they believe every story here to be true; there is more truth and lessons to be learned in nonfiction than false imaginations. They are retelling the past so they can learn how to proceed in the future.”

Suddenly a new character arrived to the stage, and the crowd went wild for him. Ganymede tried to stand in order to see him but eventually he settled by asking Athena, “Who is it?”

“The tragic hero,” she explained. “The king who will die.”

“Why will he die?”

“Because he is too proud to learn before it is too late.”

Ganymede absorbed that and said, “Why does he have to be a king?”

“Because the higher one falls, the more impact of his fate.”

“Is it fate, though?” he pleaded. “Can he not be saved?”

Athena smiled at him and momentarily cradled his cheek in her palm. “These are stories from the past, sweetling. Not even I can change his end. That is what makes it fate.”

“So it is only called fate if it is in the past? Is fate a figment of human imagination?”

Dionysus leaned over Eros to say, “Have you heard of Oedipus?”

Ganymede shook his head. Dionysus exchanged a look with Athena and retreated. “Never mind, then.”

But that prompted the youth to ask, “Who was Oedipus?”

“Someone who tried to avoid fate and wound up creating it instead,” she said.

His features fell. “So it’s…all a trap?”

Eros cut in, “Don’t be so glum.” He pulled Ganymede to lean against him. “Only Apollo has the ability of foresight, and he’s half mad because of it. Not knowing is part of the blessing of the journey. The best we can do is make the choices that enhance our lives without completely fucking up everyone else’s. Sometimes we are successful, sometimes we are not. That is where this king compromises things.”

He gestured below them to where two actors were engaging each other in dialogue. Eros narrated, “He makes a human error in believing he has made a law for everyone’s betterment.”

“He was wrong?”

Eros considered that. “Well, he did what he thought was right by his people, but not by his family.”

“But his family are a part of his people,” Ganymede voiced.

Dionysus laughed, adding, “Family usually wants special privileges, mate.”

Eros continued, “Where the tragedy lies, though, isn’t in his pride, but his family’s betrayal. His hubris made him blind and it is the deception that results in him being one of the few left living by the play’s end. And to be left in this world alone is one of the greatest tragedies.”

“But he isn’t alone…is he?” Ganymede asked timidly. “His family is gone but his people are still there?”

Eros turned to him with the jaded pity of someone who had crafted love and seen it crushed over the years of eternity. “One hundred billion mean nothing if the one you shared love with is gone.”

Ganymede swallowed thickly. His eyes burned as he gazed down at the figure who was walking through his life which would come to a grinding halt before he realized it. Ganymede sat in silence as he watched the story play out, watched the king argue with his family, watched him display blatant pride but also intelligent actions. He saw the family move in the darkness, breaking his law for what they believed was right. Far from the king being the only tragic character, Ganymede thought they were all doomed. Their differences of passion and obligation made them distrustful of one another from the beginning. It was hardly the king’s fault when he finally entered onto the stage alone, but it was too late for him to be the one to fix everyone’s wrongs.

Athena pulled him close under her arm, raking a hand through his hair before resting it over his eyes. The edge of that hand caught his tears but through its fingers he could see others wiping their own. A crater in the earth full of people, and each of them recognized loneliness when they saw it; felt the crushing ache of failure in their bones.

The spell was broken when Dionysus blew his nose like a trumpet. Audience members around them gave him indignant looks but it was a welcome reprieve. “What’s next?” Ganymede asked.

“Something pleasant,” Eros proclaimed. “I deal with this enough in my work, I don’t need it in my leisure time.”

So they left to have dinner in the city, and Ganymede realized the mood was different. Instead of cranky and easily excited, people were interacting with one another more pleasantly, as if a stressful weight had been lifted. As Ganymede observed this, he lifted his plate of shells with relieved intrigue. “What are these?”

“Snails,” Dionysus said before sucking one out of its shell. Ganymede examined this and did as he saw; the texture had a similar firmness as shellfish but the flavor was infused with garlic and lemon juice. He had a few before he switched to the scarlet tea and baklava while Dionysus revealed his plan for the comedies.

“They are rehearsing this evening. We will join them. Apollo is already overjoyed to make our costumes. He might already be finished with them.”

This proved to be true when they arrived to the stage lit with oil lamps. Apollo met them with three bundles, and a fourth he offered to Athena. She smiled but shook her head. “Thank you, but this is not my area.”

“Come on,” he grinned. “When did you last dance?”

Perhaps it was because she had to think about it was why she accepted the costume. Ganymede opened his and frowned. “Where is the shirt?”

“There isn’t one,” Apollo said. “Only the pants with the mask and headdress.”

Ganymede looked over the pants once more. They would be skin tight if he managed to put them on. “What are we supposed to be?”

Dionysus whirled around, already in costume. “My priests!”

“Your priests don’t wear leather pants,” Ganymede retorted bluntly.

Dionysus was unperturbed. “Artistic embellishment!”

He peered inside Athena’s bag but it contained much more material. “A priestess of Bacchus…” she hummed under her breath. “I’ve regressed.”

Eros had stripped down and was jumping into his costume, yanking it into place as he asked, “If we are to be your priests then surely the goal is to make as much noise as possible.”

Apollo laughed. “For the most part. There is a bit of choreography to it.”

Ganymede’s nerves skyrocketed until they hid themselves among the other actors and he saw firsthand what their roles as actors were. He began to look forward to the following day, which was sure to be filled with merriment and humor.

They awoke and rushed to the amphitheater that morning, their pockets full of persimmons and figs so they could break their fasts during the comedies. Similar to the parade, figures acted their parts with over enlarged body parts or embellished characteristics which made a day full of laughter. Admittedly, most of the japes were lost on Ganymede, but at the sight of even Athena holding her ribs, he felt light and expectant for the evening when they would put on their play.

They were in the city for an early dinner when Athena voiced that they had more time before the play than they allotted. Ganymede requested to visit one of the nearby temples in which Dionysus’ priests tended a garden within the courtyard. Herbs such as rosemary and sage perfumed the air as priests used long poles to stir the water of long ponds to inhibit scum from forming. Overall it was a remarkably tranquil place for the god of rapture’s followers to pray. Sunlight broke under the open ceiling into swords at the feet of the pillars surrounding the garden as they walked around the space.

Ganymede’s eyes wandered over the bees floating over the lavender sprigs before rising to the voices of the priests speaking with more of the temple’s visitors. He caught pieces such as, “Bless Zeus,” and “Fine day,” before the conversation turned down a strange avenue.

“He walks among us, you know,” a priest was saying. “He sees our joy for the weather during our festival and revels in it alongside us.”

Another priest, however, disagreed. “The gods do not walk among us, you fool. What brought you to this assumption? They are too supreme for such mundane ventures.”

A man frowned with a puzzled brow. “This is untrue. How else do the gods bed humans and beget monsters and heroes alike? They must be of some kind of flesh as we are.”

The priest was not pleased by this. “Look above us,” he moved toward the center of the garden and gestured to the sky. “Can you hold it or touch it? Can you bottle the air of spring as you can any perfume? These are not tangible things. The gods are as abstract as light but their impact is as apparent as the bees’ attraction to the blooms.”

Some of the men chuckled as if the priest’s thoughts were simple ignorance. “Then how did Leda beget Zeus’s child without him transforming his flesh into feathers? Or light must be tangible if Danaë’s belly could swell.”

His companions guffawed. “Leave it to you to base everything on fucking,” one of them smacked his shoulder.

“All I’m saying is that our gods are gods because they hold domain over the abstract and physical alike, and this requires having a bit of both.”

The priest puffed out like a disgruntled chicken and seemed prepared to speak but Dionysus crept up behind them. “How about you stick to the god you serve, yeah? This is Dionysus’ festival first.”

Men and priests looked at him like scolded children but Dionysus ushered his group out of the temple before they could speak. On their way to the amphitheater Ganymede noted how the gods were completely unbothered by the topic they had overheard. Far from it, Athena and Dionysus were discussing the pairing possibilities between vegetables, cheese, and wine while Eros was throwing bits of bread to the seagulls and other birds who landed nearby.

Ganymede supposed he should not be bothered either since he knew each of the gods more intimately than any priest but he could not help but think of each time he felt wind on his face…or the slither of raindrops along his scalp…and how these were just as much felt as Zeus’s hands on his chest, or his clean, warm scent filling Ganymede’s lungs. With disparate clarity, the alternative frightened Ganymede; the notion that Poseidon was only a wave in the sea or Eros was only the ache he recognized in his heart. Having Dionysus’ genius and rambunctious personality confined to the sweet and sourness of grapes seemed like the greatest loss to the world. Along with the sense of panic associated with loss, Ganymede tried to comprehend the anger he felt at the priest for so strongly declaring that the king of gods was only a breeze he could never capture.

Suddenly Ganymede looked up, and they were behind the skene of the amphitheater. So lost in his thoughts, he could not recall arriving to structure, which on one side was the set of the story, but on the other were the rooms within which they would change into their costumes. Apollo was handing his pouch to him, and Ganymede wriggled into the leather trousers alongside Eros. Apollo personally tied the half mask to his face and arranged the slim wreath of grapevines on his head before declaring him ready.

“Remember your part?” he smiled at Ganymede.

He nodded. “I think so.”

Apollo flashed another smile and then went somewhere, probably to check on other costumes. Ganymede looked over his shoulder, where a polished bronze plate was mounted on the wall. It was not as fine as the reflective glass or polished metal in the gods’ palace, but he could see the reflection of his bare back in it. The sight of his skin unmarked was…odd. He had already gotten used to seeing or hiding his scars so now he was keenly aware of the slight rustle of invisible fabric across his shoulders, the sensation of silk resting lightly on his skin.

He saw Dionysus appear in the reflection and as soon as he rotated, a stripe of red paint slid along the contour of his jaw. “Huh?”

“Just adding a little primitive touch,” the god winked. His own jaw was lined with blue and his lips were covered in red to exaggerate his mouth. Dionysus did not touch Ganymede’s lips but his fingers crossed over his chest and abdomen. “It suits the plot. We will corrupt the haughty nobles with ecstasy.”

Ganymede laughed and accepted his bowl of violet paint. Their task was to storm the stage and throw color over the white outfits of the prudent characters of the comedy. He joined Eros in the parados, or the alleyway on stage left. They crawled underneath the orchestra stage where Apollo was giving a brief review of how the trap doors worked. They could hear commotion on the other side of the stage where the other ‘priests’ were chatting and waiting in their parados.

Someone whistled, calling for silence. Above them they heard the steps of Apollo on the stage before his slightly muffled voice welcomed the audience to their play. They heard the crowd cheer and taunt the ‘nobles’ who entered and spoke of such things as perfectly ironed white himations and how green grapes were appropriate because the red and purple ones were too suggestive. Crowd members whistled at that and the innuendos only became more gaudy and suggestive, and then outright explicit. Eros buried his face in Ganymede’s neck while the latter bit his fingers to keep from laughing.

When music started they knew it was time. The nobles had inflated their rigid opinions to the point of lunacy, so it was time to introduce the opposite side of the spectrum.

Dionysus looked over his shoulder to grin at them, and then slid open the trapdoor. His voiced reached to the sky, announcing their entrance as well as adding a new layer to the music. Classical and patient, his voice alone added new personality, and as the rest of his priests climbed onto the stage, literally coming out of the woodwork, their voices changed the song altogether. Ganymede listened to Eros beside him, harmonizing while Dionysus took to speaking:

“What is this, mine ears witness, cuckolds and fools, mine eyes are weary to behold. Let’s change the music, yes, let’s change the dance.”

“Dance!” another actor harrumphed. “There is no dance!”

Dionysus laughed and laughed, throwing his shoulders back while the last of the priests arose. “You wouldn’t know music if it screamed in your ears, nor laughter even if your belly shook! Let us no more live in cold darkness, for my wine warms the stomach and my merriment brightens stars. Let us give feet to these worms, so they may dance.”

Seemingly from nowhere he withdrew his bowl of indigo paint, and whipped his arm so a slash of blue struck the white costumes at once, and even some of the audience. Ganymede’s voice roared alongside the actors’ as they stormed across the stage, throwing paint and pigment powders at any figure wearing white.

His eyes alighted in the audience, where more actors were rushing down the stairs of the seats. He had not known there were more ‘priests’ but the audience loved it. They stood up and cried out when color struck them, laughing and cheering. The actors climbed onto the stage and Eros called Ganymede to their next part.

The skene was structured like the balconies of a temple. They climbed ladders hidden within vines to the top where they started a harmony of clapping. The audience took up the rhythm, clapping with them as Ganymede turned around and moved down to make room for actors still climbing…

But a figure broke away from the rush of actors on the ladders. Large and striking, the figure arrived below Ganymede and used his bare hands and feet to climb the temple façade. Ganymede felt himself leaning over the edge, wondering what he was grabbing onto in order to climb, but then a masked face came level with his, silver eyes shining back at him. His smile was large and bright, making Ganymede realize his cheeks ached slightly from grinning like a fool. Out of some deeply ingrained, innate comfort, he reached for Zeus.

The music was dull in his ears. Hundreds of pairs of hands coming together might as well have been his heart in his ears. His thumb touched the edge of Zeus’s half mask. The baked paper lifted off his face a little as he came closer. Large hands closed around Ganymede’s waist. He did not know how Zeus was still climbing without his hands, nor did he care. All he could think of was how glad he was there was not paint here…

He felt himself lifted so Zeus’s face remained below his. Ganymede could not say if he reached for it or if his head simply fell down for it, but Zeus’s lips caught his as if he had been waiting a millennia for them. 

The first sensation Ganymede could fathom was softness. Just as suddenly, his senses were overrun by Zeus; that aroma of _male_ that was strikingly gentle and fringed with the chalky and stale smell of paint and paper mache. It made Ganymede ache in a way he was unfamiliar with. Whereas painful aches were repellant and self-preserving, this was the opposite. It was like hunger, greedy and wanton, demanding to the point that Ganymede’s tongue licked over the slight opening of Zeus’s lips. 

As soon as he had done it, his eyes opened in shock, but Zeus’s were hooded and dark. His strong arms went around Ganymede, holding him to his body tightly. Ganymede’s knees fell open on either side of the god’s hips, and abruptly it no longer mattered how the god was standing or climbing. Ganymede felt wind through his hair because they were moving, flying, gone from the skene and the amphitheater. Ganymede clutched him, pressing their chests together but Zeus claimed his lips while tearing off Ganymede’s mask.

“Gany,” he was saying in rushes of air and delicate whispers alike. _“Gany…”_

He reached for Zeus’s mask as well, his fingers smudging his face with purple. Zeus hardly cared; his neck arched, opening for Ganymede to push it over his hair, and then lowered for his mouth—their noses bumped together. Zeus laughed, taking the opportunity to push his fingers into Ganymede’s hair and unwind the wreath of grapevines—

His back hit a cushion of some kind, startling him. “Where…?”

“My temple,” Zeus rumbled. “Outside of Athens.”

As if in testament, nocturnal birds sang from the branches of the tree growing right out of the floor toward the open ceiling. Zeus had set him on a low reclining settee and nibbled on a patch of skin just under his earlobe. Ganymede’s chin fell to the side, his eyes sagging closed. When they opened he saw the stars peeking through the leaves and branches taking up the space where a ceiling would be.

“Ganymede.”

His gaze dragged to the king’s, his king’s… Zeus saw the thought cross behind Ganymede’s eyes. Gently, as if experimentally, he turned Ganymede’s chin fully toward him and kissed him softly. His tongue stroked Ganymede’s lower lip when it was pulled into Zeus’s mouth, and abruptly his arms went around the god’s neck, holding him as closely as possible. Zeus’s chin settled in the crook of his neck while a hand rubbed consolingly across his back. “What is it, Gany?”

Ganymede shook his head, burying his face in Zeus’s hair to muffle, “I don’t want to think.”

The kisses on his neck were like having all of the blood in his body yanked in the direction of Zeus’s lips. “It is better to think now rather than afterward. Are you afraid?”

He nodded, his hold on his king not loosening. “Of me?” Zeus whispered.

Ganymede shuddered but his head shook no. “Of myself…of everything.” Zeus’s hand had moved up on his back, inducing him to exclaim, “Take it off.”

Zeus froze, not understanding. “What?”

One of Ganymede’s hands reached back as if to grasp something. “I…I can’t do it myself. Take it off…please—ah!”

He jerked as the shroud was torn open across his shoulder blades. His voice escaped his throat as the pearlescent fabric was yanked from in between them to land on the floor. He felt more naked than ever. Ganymede’s knees lifted, his body curling around Zeus as if to hide. He shivered as those fingertips retraced their paths on his back, this time crossing over his bare flesh and the shiny scar tissue there. He shivered.

“I adore you, Gany. Do you not want to do this?” Zeus’s voice sounded strained, husky and painful.

Ganymede swallowed and nuzzled the god’s hairline. “I shouldn’t want it, but I don’t know how…it hurts too much to think of not doing it. Everything is so unbearably _dull_ without you. But I don’t think I will survive knowing what this is like if it is removed from me afterward.”

Zeus reared up just enough to smile and reassure him, “It is a reassurance that this is not because of my immortality.” At Ganymede’s blank expression he extended, “You have made me incredibly happy… You’ve fallen in love with me instead of a master or god. Do you know what this means?”

He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. Zeus kissed in between his brows. “It means I am just as terrified. I want you, Gany, like water or nectar. I have feared for a long time of you becoming a necessity to my life, as unbearably long as it is. If you will have me, I will have you now, and always afterward.”

“You’re only saying that.”

This caught Zeus off guard. Ganymede was looking away, suspicious and pouting. The god sighed warmly over him. “This again.”

Ganymede peeked at him, only to be overcome by kisses across his nose, cheeks, and temples. Zeus attacked him with his lips, over his ears, jaw, and neck until Ganymede could not stomach his giggles.

Suddenly Zeus's hips moved, and the friction sent shivers all the way up from Ganymede’s groin to his nape. His breath left his throat and his skull felt heavy. “Now and always, Gany.” The words washed over him, pulling him like the swaying movements of the sea. “Do not take my vows lightly. They are eternal.”

He moved again, and Ganymede realized what was rubbing against him through the king’s own tight trousers. This time the rush through him was more prominent, and he grimaced, sucking in air. Without voicing what he needed, Zeus’s fingers worked at the laces, and then his hot grip closed around him.

“Relax,” he prompted. Ganymede realized how rigid his body was. The swallow in his throat was loud in his ears as he tried to fill his lungs only to feel the grip on his cock move down, up, and massage the bud of nerves under the head.

Ganymede’s spine arched, his pelvis lifting off the divan while his legs squirmed. “T-That feels—umf…is it suppose to…?”

But instead of answering Zeus yanked his body down to the foot of the divan, where he could better kneel on the floor to bow over Ganymede’s body. His hazel eyes widened, not believing what he was doing until Zeus’s mouth closed around his tip, and slid all the way down.

“Ah!” he all but screamed into the night. His eyes squinted shut only to blow wide once more. “I…I feel like I’m going to… I feel like I’m going to urinate or something, stop!”

The mouth left him. Zeus’s eyes stared up at him. Ganymede’s hands covered his face in embarrassment. The silence that followed was excruciating. Zeus lifted his head to prop it in his hand. Ganymede’s underthings rested against his chest since the god remained between his legs. “It is not urine that comes out," he assured calmly. "You know this, don’t you?”

He gulped, trying to shove his panic elsewhere. “But they said _something_ comes out. When I…”

Understanding cleared Zeus’s eyes. Sliding his palm up Ganymede’s cock, he rubbed it lethargically as he came back up to kiss Ganymede’s lips. “Watch it, and place your concerns to rest.”

“But—!”

“Shhh,” he hushed. “Feel me, Gany. Just feel it and let it happen. Watch.”

When his lips pressed together in fear, Zeus kissed him, sucking out his bottom lip and biting it to keep his lips loose. He slid his tongue into Ganymede’s mouth, feeling his exhalation rush from one mouth to the other. Ganymede’s head clouded again, as if filling with heavy syrup at the sensation of Zeus claiming his mouth. He realized his hips were bucking within Zeus’s grip and the sensation in his groin was growing to the point of delicious agony. He tried to be still but Zeus purred roughly in his throat, encouraging him. He broke away from their kiss to stare in Ganymede’s eyes, and the utter hunger and devotion there struck Ganymede’s chest like a javelin and then it was all too much.

Zeus looked down, the nudge of his head inducing Ganymede to do the same as an almost milky fluid spurted out once…a little more…and then just a drip along the red, swollen head. Gooey warmth spread through his groin and core, oddly satisfied.

“That… That’s it?” he breathed as if he had been running.

Zeus smiled. “That’s it.” His fingers released Ganymede in exchange of wiping the drops from his stomach. He locked eyes with Ganymede’s wide, round ones as his lips closed around those fingers.

“You can’t do that!”

A sucking sound was heard as the king cleaned one finger, and then the next. “Why can’t I?”

“That…” he blinked. “It, is it not…unpalatable?”

Zeus finished cleaning his fingers with a mischievous curve to his lips. “Not to me. I look forward to tasting more of you.”

The youth’s shoulders hunched, his chest dusting with pink while his throat and chest blushed scarlet. He tried to look away but Zeus caught his chin, and turned it back. Ganymede’s eyes lowered but lower meant looking down Zeus’s body. He shyly met those grey eyes, which dropped to his lips. What followed was the most delicate kiss yet bestowed upon Ganymede’s lips. The _smooch_ sound was prominent in the darkness. “Are you still afraid of the afterward?”

 _Oh._ Ganymede thought about this and blurted, “I guess not, oh!”

Zeus scooped him up from the divan and walked with him to where pallets were set down for lounging beside a dormant fireplace. A glance was all it took for the logs to light, and after Zeus set Ganymede down, he pulled his crimson himation as if from a pocket in the air to pull over them—

Ganymede touched Zeus’s hip, stopping his movements. To his inquiring expression Ganymede replied, “I only thought…these are uncomfortable…”

Zeus smiled, and threw the cloth aside. Ganymede’s trousers were still unlaced, and once Zeus’s fingers curled inside the waist, they unpeeled from Ganymede’s legs. Zeus seemed ready to undo his own, but he stilled when Ganymede sat up with his legs folded under him. Zeus remained standing on his knees, watching slim fingers undo the knot and pull the laces free. He opened the pants and tried to pull them down, but he only managed as far as mid thigh. Zeus’s member sprang free. Ganymede had seen it flaccid but engorged and reaching was different. His fingers paused and began to venture near it, but Zeus’s own closed lightly under his jaw, pulling him up to stand on his knees. “Don’t force yourself. All with time.”

Ganymede’s lashes fluttered closed, letting Zeus support his head during their kiss. Reaching up, Ganymede’s hands found his hair and pulled him down for something more thorough. Once more his tongue passed through Ganymede’s lips, but his jaws opened for him, relishing the warmth that dripped through his core, the reawakening of desires.

Something shifted. Zeus took control of the kiss. He ravished Ganymede’s mouth, as if branding his tongue and lips to never forget his taste. By the time he finished and pulled away, Ganymede reeled, not quite able to open his eyes. Zeus supported him, kissing along his hairline to bring him back to awareness. “Gany…do you know how men make love?”

“Mmuh?”

He laughed. “We will reserve it for another night, then. Lie back, love.”

Ganymede lowered onto his heels and did so, only instead of being on his back Zeus maneuvered him to roll over onto his hands and knees. The thought of Zeus’s pants was fleeting in Ganymede’s mind, especially once the god’s thighs brushed the backs of his own, the leather already gone. Ganymede’s penis was already half arisen, but feeling Zeus’s underneath his scrotum perked him up fully.

“Will you close your legs for me?”

Confused, Ganymede pivoted his shoulders to look back at him only to meet Zeus right by his shoulder. “Won’t that be too tight?”

Zeus chuckled. “That’s the idea.”

Still unsure, Ganymede did as he bid. His king shuddered during an exploratory thrust between his thighs, but then, “No, this will not work.”

Ganymede twisted to look at him again. “What? We’ve barely tried—”

Zeus flopped him onto his back and gripped his ankles, lifting them so his legs rested flat across his torso and his heels rested on his shoulders. “I need to see you,” Zeus explained tersely.

Ganymede flushed and moved his hands awkwardly, unsure what to do with them. Zeus saw this and pulled them over his head, interlocking their fingers. This involved leaning forward, and with Ganymede’s feet on his shoulders this lifted his lower half off the floor. “Does this hurt?”

Ganymede focused on breathing while he shook his head. “I’m just unsure…”

Zeus’s member slid between his legs, over his scrotum and erection resting on his stomach, and then again. The pressure on his balls was nicer than he had expected, but something about it…he burst out laughing.

The god’s expression opened, as if poised for complete stoicism. Ganymede tried to apologize, tried to press his giggles against the inside of his arm, but the more he thought about their arrangement, the more he guffawed. It came to a point that Zeus unwound their hands and simply settled on all fours above him, patiently waiting for him to get it out. Ganymede’s legs folded toward his chest while he hid behind his hands.

“Sorry…I’m sorry,” he giggled, wiping tears from his eyes. “I don’t know why…”

Zeus pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of his cheek. “It’s all right. We can stop tonight.”

“No,” Ganymede swallowed the last of his mirth. “That isn’t fair.”

“There is not any rush. It might even be better this way, because once I have you I will ravish you completely.”

Well, if his cock was not awake then, it certainly was now. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Zeus’s eyes glinted with silver as he slowly lowered toward Ganymede’s body. His thumb brushed his already swollen lips. “It means these will be chapped and raw from too much kissing. These too.”

A gasp escaped Ganymede’s throat when teeth lightly worried at a nipple. Zeus gave his cock a few tight, slow pulls. “I will take as much as I can from this…while here…”

Ganymede thought he was just going to touch underneath his penis, but well…he was not altogether wrong.

The air halted in his throat as a thumb pressed into the flesh beneath his balls, dragging delicious pressure through his core until the pad of the thumb found his tight entrance. Ganymede wanted to speak, or would even settle on simply breathing, but the battle between the two resulted in a strange wheezing. Zeus massaged slow circles there, watching and waiting for Ganymede to gather his words. “Why there?”

“Because within here,” he looked toward the doors of the temple, where a carafe of oil was mounted on the wall. It easily tore free from the stucco and flew to his hand. Ganymede watched as oil dripped over his fingers, shining in the low light from the fireplace. “In here is a place we will both enjoy.”

Without further preamble, he slid his second-to-last finger inside. To Ganymede’s indignant surprise, it was far from painful, but it was utterly foreign. Holding his hands over his chest, he waited for the finger to stroke and coat his inside with oil, to massage and carefully stretch to allow for the next larger finger.

“Um! A-Are you sure?” he questioned doubtfully. His knees jerked with every new movement inside him.

“I could rush the process,” Zeus admitted. “But I want to enjoy you slowly, and this area requires careful preparation if done without my power.”

Two fingers. Ganymede grimaced slightly, but not from pain, just mild discomfort. He tried to be calm and not watch but curiosity and impatience got the better of—

“Aah!” he cried involuntarily. His palms slapped Zeus’s shoulders when he crudely reached for him, his spine arching and his throat opening. Something was _happening_ inside. Those fingers curled and nearly abused a spot that had Ganymede writhing and short of breath. Zeus found a rhythm inside him, urging and pushing, coaxing the pressure up and up. The head of Ganymede’s cock glistened while sweat adorned his forehead and throat.

“Let it come,” Zeus purred, gradually increasing the pace. “Let me see you.”

Unintelligible sounds were coming out of him. He was moving with Zeus’s hand and all he wanted— _fuck,_ —all he wanted was to be consumed by this.

The orgasm hit him hard. His entire body reacted with it; like waves moving from the shore, it was as if the current of his blood rushed up from his feet into the arteries of his thighs and where Zeus’s fingertips were.

Coming down from this high was hazy and difficult, but kisses on his throat lessened his fall. Ganymede might have fallen deeply asleep if the tickling kisses did not make him want the same sensation on his mouth. Zeus had come to lie beside him, but Ganymede put his arms around his neck and rolled into him. Zeus pleasured his mouth for what felt like long into the night, or at least until Ganymede could no longer hold his eyes open. The last thing he felt was the himation finally coming to rest over them, guarding them from the cool night’s breeze rustling in the leaves overhead.

He roused to the touch of lips on his chest as well as a warm cloth wiping crumbs of paint from his body. Zeus smiled down at him and left a lingering kiss on his lips. “Good morning.”

Ganymede put his arms around Zeus’s torso and rolled them over so he could bury his face in his chest, hiding from the morning. However, as soon as he draped his leg over Zeus’s, he was reminded of their nudity and he was wide awake. Zeus stared with confusion as Ganymede sputtered, “I’m sorry! You haven’t—I never—we’re barely lovers and I can’t do this right! They said the first priority is to pleasure your partner but I never did…”

He buried his shame in his hands but Zeus had the grace to hold his laughter within. He palmed Ganymede’s bedhead cowlicks as he consoled, “Come to me for love counsel from now on. It gives me pleasure to have you writhing for me; you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Ganymede glared from between his fingers. Zeus simply smiled and set his hand on Ganymede’s clothes which he had left at the amphitheater. “Dress whenever you are ready. We will eat in the city.”

He stood but paused when Ganymede blurted, “We?”

He smiled while handing him a glass of water. “It is my turn to enjoy the festival with you.”

Ganymede grinned and drained the cup before dressing quickly. Zeus swung his red fabric around himself before pinning it in place. Ganymede watched the red dye bleed out of it to a duller, less noticeable hue while the drops solidified into fresh grapes. Zeus pulled Ganymede to him with an arm around his shoulders and they shared the grapes along their walk into Athens. Zeus’s height certainly attracted stunned looks, but Ganymede felt his nerves relax as he observed how the people were not reacting to a god, merely a large human.

A young woman exited a building, catching him off guard. A long basket was in her arms as she smiled up at Zeus. “You’ve almost finished. Would you like more fruit?”

Ganymede’s eyes wandered over the nectarines and figs as he heard Zeus’s refusal, and then lifted to see the woman’s expression. To say that Ganymede might as well not have existed would not have been an exaggeration; he had seen the same infatuation in the eyes of nymphs.

Zeus drew him away from the fruit vendor, continuing along the street while Ganymede watched her disappointment grow. “Will she be all right? I thought women were not allowed in the agora.”

Zeus’s hand on his shoulder moved up so he could unconsciously play with the hair on his nape. “She is a prostitute. They have more liberty but less respect than other women.”

Ganymede looked up at him, puzzled, and then sighed as if defeated. “I don’t understand.”

Zeus chuckled. “You don’t need to. Brothels are not among our destinations.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the sea. There is a ceremony this morning for Pos.”

Intrigued, Ganymede followed with renewed vigor. Unlike the harbor’s usual aromas of decaying fish and hot pitch, fresh catches were roasting with pine nuts and being slathered in pesto. Ganymede’s growling stomach accepted the flaky meat eagerly. Peering around them, Ganymede wondered aloud, “When is the ceremony?”

“Now,” Zeus replied, pointing out to sea. A ship was slowly leaving the harbor with a brazier billowing with sage infused smoke. The baying of rams and sheep could be heard on deck, but on land instruments were playing music. Ganymede did not fully understand until the ship had gone far enough on the horizon and he squinted to see something being thrown overboard. He blinked, something on the horizon catching his eye. People around him were cheering but he did not comprehend why until something thrashed in the water.

“What is that?’

“Sharks,” Zeus narrated. “The rams’ blood attracts them. Their arrival is interpreted as a good omen for fishermen in the coming year.”

“Why?”

“Sharks are often found near schools of fish. If they are plentiful enough to come and partake in the offerings, this means fish will be plenty as well.”

“Has Poseidon actually done this or is it just coincidence?”

Zeus chuckled and passed the hibiscus tea he had gotten with his fish to Ganymede. “Both are likely. Come this way.”

On the other side of the harbor were several winding sets of stairs carved into the cliffs. This was familiar: the climbing of stairs and the feeling of elevation. It was quite a climb up to the top of the summit, where forestry dominated the terrain, but once they broke through the line of trees they found a wide pit dug into the earth for people to sit and converse around a fire in view of the ocean. Zeus pulled Ganymede onto his lap so they could relax in sight of the glittering waves.

Until a commotion brought their attention to Dionysus breaking through the shrubbery. Eros and Athena followed more calmly.

“There you are! Tits and balls, mate, let a fool know where you’re going so we don’t worry!”

“We weren’t worried,” Eros yawned, clearly having just woken up.

“He’s annoyed the two of you stole the show last night,” Athena amended.

“Tall and heavy over there nearly tore down the skene,” Dionysus complained, ruffling leaves out of his curls. "The humans are going to do something drastic and rule that only three actors can take the stage at one time."

Eros laughed under his breath. “We’ve disrupted a romantic morning. Let’s leave them to it.”

However Dionysus was already en route to colliding with Ganymede. Zeus held him steady on his lap but Dionysus slid down to bury his face against Ganymede’s abdomen and thigh. “No! Our Gany’s a kept man now! I need to quell my anguish in all the delectable details!”

“What anguish?” Eros snorted the same time Ganymede muttered, “We didn’t actually…”

Dionysus perked up. “What? You didn’t…”

He looked bluntly at the apex of Ganymede’s legs, and then leaned over to Zeus. “Are you all right? Is everything functioning down thmmh—”

Zeus palmed his face and moved him aside as he stood and set Ganymede on his feet. “The moment’s lost. Go on and show us what you wanted.”

Dionysus recovered and said, “Well it’s not only Poseidon’s ceremonies happening today. Since Gany likes the temples he ought to see them in full action.”

Zeus’s expression opened and he looked to Ganymede for confirmation. The hazel eyes were more gold today, but they had widened in curiosity before peeking up at his king. He turned back to his son. “All right. Which first?”

“Mine,” Athena declared, taking the lead.

Behind them Ganymede took Zeus’s hand and asked, “Do the temples sacrifice livestock too?”

“Some, yes,” he replied. “I’ve told you this before.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But feeding the sharks actually makes some sort of sense. What happens with the sheep afterward?”

Dionysus replied, “They’re roasted and fed to the poor.”

“You’re lying.”

He looked over his shoulder as if he had never been more stunned in his life. Eros chuckled. “He knows you.”

“Or he’s paid attention to human patterns,” Athena reiterated. “Mostly the carcasses are entirely wasted and burned with incense. Not in my temples, however. The wool is harvested and the milk is mixed with honey for drinking. One prime ram is burned but the rest are in fact cooked for the poor or saved to make next year’s flock.”

“And mine aren’t?” Dionysus combatted. “My priestesses age the milk to fermented perfection. It is an acquired taste but it is not our fault if the old goats have died in time for the festival.”

Zeus, not listening, was rearranging his and Ganymede’s hands so their fingers interlocked. Ganymede squeezed his palm, using Zeus’s balance to help his descent back into the city. On their way to Athena’s largest temple they passed Dionysus’ priests handing out cups of the special milk, and Ganymede swiftly decided it was foul. Athena’s temple, however, was pungent with burning sage and rosemary. Ganymede guessed by the sight of a priest carving into the meat of a beheaded carcass that the sacrifice of the day had already been finished. His head turned in the direction of priestesses singing over their looms, already at work cleaning, spinning, and weaving wool.

Athena gestured them over to what looked like a closed area but today people were able to stroll around shallow pools of dark water. Poles laid over the surface with fabric draped over them, and when priestesses lifted the drapes out of the water, they glistened with tyrian purple or soft orange.

All around them were long fabrics hanging to dry. Above their heads, the open ceiling was crisscrossed with poles on which held up the wet drapery. Ganymede touched one, feeling its coarse wool which was so unlike his soft linens and silks; the pads of his fingers came away purple.

Athena wiped his fingers with a cloth which smelled saturated in some sort of alcohol. “Stains,” she smiled.

The priestesses paid them no more attention than the temple visitors; Ganymede would have suspected this was the gods’ influence, but quiet mirth brought his attention to a number of men occasionally giving him strange looks. When he met the gaze of a pair of teenagers giggling behind their hands, Zeus’s low whisper fluttered in his hair:

“They are not worth your interest.”

“But why are they laughing?” he could not help but ask.

“Relationships between men are equally respected and mocked.”

This was the last reason he had expected. “Why?”

“Because some believe love should be reserved between a man and woman. Fools, obviously. And hypocrites.”

Athena explained for him, “It is not uncommon for men to share beds until they take a wife. Even afterward, old men take young male lovers.”

Ganymede suddenly looked up at Zeus, whose eyes widened as he read the thoughts on his face. “I am ageless. This puts me above them.”

Athena’s smile crooked on one side of her face. “So he likes to think.”

His hold tightened on Ganymede’s hand. “Do not feed festering thoughts!”

Ganymede’s other hand found the bell of Zeus’s forearm. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said quietly. “I just want to enjoy today.”

Zeus used the hold on him to pull Ganymede close, kissing his hair and breathing in deep. Ganymede felt the warmth of his skin through the contact of his cheek on the god’s shoulder as he fought the sore feeling in the back of his throat and eyes.

“Dion,” Zeus rumbled. His son whirled around with lazy interest. “Yours next.”

He grinned mischievously and found a side door out of the temple. “Follow the merry tunes,” he commanded, and sure enough, the music in the streets led to any one of his temples. Perhaps it was because next door was one of Eros’ temples, but Ganymede felt that there were far less stares, and even found men sharing wine from the same cup or sitting next to one another with their legs touching. A knee would bump the other, their owners sharing a laugh. Eyes found Ganymede’s hand in Zeus’s, and then lifted to smile kindly to his eyes. Ganymede’s heart began to feel lighter.

Zeus gave him a glass of white wine with a wedge of lemon in it. It was chilled from being in cellar barrels. As Ganymede was savoring it, Eros came behind him and rubbed between his shoulder blades. Initially it was a pleasant feeling, but after some time he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Sorry?”

“Your heart. You feel things very powerfully.”

He was not sure how to interpret that. “Is that…bad? Intrusive, maybe?”

Eros smiled at him; it was calm and knowing, but not mischievous like how he often smiled with Dionysus. “No and yes. I am selfish in reading your emotions. It is so often my task to manipulate feelings that to experience your honest ones so keenly…it is revivifying.”

Ganymede’s brows lifted. “I didn’t know you were jaded with love.”

Eros’ head fell back as he laughed. “A cruel irony, isn’t it? But truly, I…”

His breath faded as his gaze became heavy, looking nowhere yet focused intently. Ganymede touched his arm, bringing him back, but Eros smiled. In what he supposed was the same, wordless way Eros could read emotions, Ganymede knew the smile was a lie. A shield.

“Festering thoughts which needn’t spread like a disease,” Eros chimed. “Perhaps today isn’t my day.”

Puzzled, Ganymede frowned. “But it is every god’s day.”

Eros laughed, and again it was forced. “There are some days we should not be allowed in public and today is mine.”

Suddenly he was close enough to kiss Ganymede’s jaw, and then he was leaving. “Pray to me should I need venture outside again.”

Someone walked in between him and Ganymede, and when the latter would have had eyes on him again, Eros was gone.

Ganymede stood still for enough time that when Zeus tried to draw him forward, he took a better look at him and asked, “What has happened?”

Ganymede’s lips pressed together, his eyes gazing at the empty space Eros once in habited. “I think…Eros is upset.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He left instead of talking about it.”

He felt Zeus’s arm around his waist. “Then we must give him space for his thoughts.”

But Eros remained among Ganymede’s concerns for the much of the day. He considered praying to him, just to ask how he was doing, but something always drew his attention elsewhere. Finally when they went next door to one of Eros’ temples, Ganymede took a pair of hazel twigs from the potted bouquet which was rapidly outgrowing its urn. The wonky flowers had skinny petals that were as bright of yellow as his hair, and the red center could have been his lips after eating a pomegranate.

A slab of marble was carved in the center of the temple to be an offering table, the sides of which displayed lovers in various stages of courting. Placing the flowers among the various other offerings, Ganymede felt the hard ground against his knees as he knelt and bowed his forehead to rest over his fingers.

_Eros. I don’t know what’s wrong, but thank you for taking care of me with Dion and Athena. I am not sure how to show you my gratitude for these last two weeks, but I hope you find peace today._

As he sat up he realized how silent the temple had fallen, but before he could look around for why, the heap of flowers and offerings shifted…and then stilled. His eyes dropped to movement over his flowers: a hare nibbling on the yellow petals. Its black eyes might have been on him or anywhere, but its long brown ears laid flat behind its head as it emerged just enough from the pile to eat more of the blossoms.

Chatter erupted around him as if the voices had been mute to his ears until now. Something about _the god’s blessing_ and _sacred hare_ reached him, but Athena held out her hand to help him up. “I’m sure he is feeling better. He is telling you not to worry any longer.”

“How do you know?” he stood.

“Not many people know his familiar is a hare,” she explained quietly as temple visitors carefully surrounded the table to hold out random vegetables for the animal. “Considering his father keeps bears and hounds, it is great luck for him to show his rabbits.”

“Rabbits and hares are not the same,” Dionysus reminded. “Hares are quite large and swift.”

Athena smiled softly. “Yes.”

Ganymede laughed as Dionysus traipsed right up and pulled the hare out of the pile by the scruff of the neck. The animal seemed less than pleased but settled in his arms while onlookers gaped at his audacity. It helped that Dionysus kept a frond of greenery ready for it to nibble on.

Giggles fading, Ganymede turned to find Zeus, who stood a little ways away simply watching him. He smiled and opened his arm. Ganymede ran to be caught against his torso, held tightly for a moment against his strong heartbeat. “Are you hungry?”

Ganymede nodded and looked up at him. Zeus drew him outside and they returned to Athena’s villa. Ganymede sat at the table, working his way through the bowl of fruit while Zeus surprised him by cooking. With a mouth full of peach flesh, he mumbled something like, “You cook?”

“I taught my son,” he said without turning around. Eggs sizzled in the pan resting on a bed of coals. “He needed a hobby to distract from his injuries. Being a projectile off of a mountain is quite an ordeal.”

Even though the statement was sarcastic, his tone was somber, weakly concealing a deeply embedded shame. Ganymede ventured, “He looks like you, even now.”

Zeus’s shoulders lifted with a laugh. “Either a blessing or a curse. I’ve been told I have striking features.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he admitted.

Zeus rotated to unload the fried eggs onto a plate before he tapped his nose. “It’s a bit too sharp for my face, some think.”

Ganymede stared at him while chewing through another peach. After a time he concluded, “With your beard, it’s less noticeable.”

Zeus chuckled, running a hand over his currently shaven face. The pan sizzled anew with strips of pork while he got to work chopping vegetables to throw in the pan with the fat. He eventually came to sit adjacent at the table and nudged Ganymede’s shoulder while he bit into his own apricot. “I’ve also been told I _brood."_

“Does that mean you stare like you’re angry?” Ganymede asked. Zeus nodded. He thought about that. “Yes, you do.”

With Zeus's strength, his palm landing on the table made the cherries jump in their bowl. “Well I’m glad you’ve never been discouraged by my visage.”

Ganymede shrugged. “You never look at me like you’re angry,” and then he had to ask, “Who told you these things?”

The god seemed ready to give a list of names but instead he gave a shrug. “Hera usually. Aphrodite likes to comment on my face but I have never taken her taunts to heart. She adores my son, after all. She cannot complain too much if the mouth she kisses is the same shape as my own. Ares also has my nose.”

Ganymede laughed before his mirth evaporated as Zeus grasped one of his hands to suck the juice from his palm and fingers. He did not know what to make of it, the soft and wet intimacy of lips and tongue…well this seemed silly after last night, but as Zeus’s mouth found the apex of his fingers his wrist tensed with the desire to pull away, his thoughts turning frantic for a distraction—

“Why does she love him?” he heard himself ask, and then realized he was genuinely curious. Zeus’s grey eyes perked up. “Ares is…unpredictable. Eros does not hold much love for him, and…I haven’t seen much for the vice versa. Why does she choose him and not Hephaestus?”

Juice and saliva gone from his concerns, Zeus laced his fingers with Ganymede’s and poised their elbows on the table so his lips could press against Ganymede’s fingers while he contemplated that. “Because Ares’ passions do not necessarily need to lie in war. That is the vocation he has found to occupy his energies the most, but really they share the same standard of passion. To put it differently: he is able to keep up with her stamina. He does not bore her.”

Ganymede blinked. “And Hephaestus does?”

Zeus gazed at him. For a brief moment Ganymede was not sure he was going to answer. “Hephaestus is stronger than Ares,” he revealed calmly. “Both in body and mind. Aphrodite cannot control him. And he is calm. She desires passion, even if it is volatile.”

Hazel eyes held his gaze for a moment before wondering to the table’s surface. It was inlaid with lapis lazuli and other stones for a small mosaic while he processed this. There were several things he wanted to say. _Maybe I’m biased because of how Eros is affected… Aphrodite is a woman who can take care of herself but so is Athena, who isn’t taking steps to prove her abilities like this, who isn’t needy…But does that make me needy? To understand this level of desire?_

Again his thoughts grew restless and he unconsciously pulled his hand, trying to reclaim it. “Sticky,” he complained weakly.

“Are you worried about Hera?” Zeus cut right to it. “Are you worried…”

He seemed like he meant to finish the sentence, but instead he reached with his other hand to caress the side of Ganymede’s skull. He sighed. “You are heavy with thoughts. Release them to me.”

It was as if hearing it voiced aloud made it true. Ganymede’s head sagged into his palm, heavy with ruminations. “I’m not disillusioned,” he murmured. “I know…I know this—”

“But you don’t know,” Zeus interjected softly.

Ganymede’s eyes hurt. It was becoming difficult to hold his eyelashes up. “I know this is likely temporary. Only the queen has endured…because she is queen, and the two of you have gained something of a mutual respect for one another.”

“You and I haven’t?” Zeus queried, just as softly.

His lips parted to speak but instead he inhaled and swallowed. “I…” He exhaled. “I don’t know how to say my thoughts.”

Zeus had been leaning closer and closer, so now he scooped Ganymede out of his seat. The table moved with a nudge from an elbow so he settled on the king’s thighs. “One at a time,” he murmured, tucking Ganymede close to him.

His eyes closed heavily. “How will she react?”

“You sound sure she will.”

“Won’t she? We can’t think she won’t know.”

“You’re right,” Zeus acquiesced, “but any romantic love was lost between she and I long ago.”

“I’m not sure that means we will receive her blessing,” Ganymede tried not to say smartly.

Zeus’s body shook gently with a chuckle. “Your concern is justified but Hera has grown and matured far more than I. She will not react as harshly as she has in the past.”

“As harshly,” Ganymede sassed without restraint.

Zeus nuzzled his hairline lightly. “You’re underestimating me. I would sooner let her score my flesh than touch yours.”

Ganymede allowed himself a deep exhale and continued. “What of the other gods, then?”

“I have never interfered or shown interest in their affairs. I doubt they would suddenly do so in mine.”

“They have used me for taunts, though,” he reminded.

“You are worried about Poseidon,” Zeus cited specifically. “The number of times I have abided by his treatment of my daughter, he would be far from wise to return such leniency by being a threat to you.”

“He might be convinced you will let him do anything,” he tested.

Suddenly Zeus’s chest grew warm, nearly unbearably hot. Ganymede shifted, leaning off of him and ready to apologize for angering him, but the god held him still, and cooled just as quickly. “If this holds true, I will correct such a way of thinking. I am not sure how many times or ways I can say how dear you are to me.”

The air felt strained in Ganymede’s lungs. “I don’t mean to sound doubtful. I just…need to prepare myself.”

“For what?” he said, but it was like wind instead of a voice.

He was quiet for a long minute. “To hurt,” he finally said, but there was not power to it. Only a god’s ears could hear it. “I don’t want to think like this but…”

“I understand,” Zeus finished for him. “I have not been kind to my lovers up until now. I have let them come to violent ends but you and I began painfully. Is it rude of me to hope I have already reached my violence quota with you?”

For a second he was silent, and then he chuckled, and then Ganymede’s mirth built into a tumult of giggles. His weight collapsed against the large body cradling him. “That’s so stupid,” he scolded weakly.

Zeus allowed himself to laugh with him; his fingers interlocked on Ganymede’s hip so he held him comfortably. “I know, but your near death has been the only thing to frighten me more than my father. The last time I felt such uncontrollable desire was when I fought him, and to have such unbridled energy result in needing and then almost losing you…”

Ganymede had gone quite still. Zeus had never spoken of Cronus, at least not to him. Somehow, the realization that they both bore traumatic scars alleviated the storm clouds in his thoughts. Suddenly he understood how Zeus saw him: fragile, and beautiful. God or no, Zeus had almost died once too.

His arm rounded under Zeus’s own so he could hug Zeus’s broad back. Through the himation he could feel the indentions of teeth marks—

_“Gany.”_

Fingers found the underside of his chin and lifted his face for a kiss. His eyes closed for it, yielding to the chaste yet intimate contact of their lips. The pads of those fingers explored his face, the thumb tracing his lower lip and the corner even while they kissed. As if searching for more tangibility of whom he held.

The kiss deepened. Zeus pressed closer into him, his fingers curling behind Ganymede’s nape as the air between them became indistinguishable. Ganymede felt the surge of his blood toward Zeus’s touch. He did not taste him but with their breaths lost to each other it was as if they shared lungs, and the comfort in that was heady and stirring. Zeus’s palms circled his waist, nudging and tightening in odd places before Ganymede realized he was restless. Zeus did not know where to touch him, so he was touching a little everywhere. Ganymede ventured to sit up and try to lift his leg to change position, but it was all Zeus needed to grip that knee and turn Ganymede around so he straddled strong hips.

Zeus broke away. “Was that not what you intended?” he meant to say but Ganymede's fingertips catching his face cut off the last word. He landed softly back on Ganymede's mouth, Zeus’s hand rising to cradle the back of his head while his own tilted to savor Ganymede’s mouth from a better angle. His other palm slid under Ganymede’s shirt and himation, unconsciously finding the scars and caressing the sensitive flesh there—

“FESTIVITIES BY THE THEATRE!”

Ganymede startled so hard he bit his lip and landed from jumping on Zeus’s lap. Dionysus breezed into the kitchen, barely looking at them as he emptied food into a bowl and further announced, “ _Someone_ has arranged for storms this evening so thankfully the sailors have alerted the people and arranged accordingly for music and festivities to occur…well, right about now—”

He finally turned around and analyzed the position they were in. “I approve of your romantic advancements but perhaps you did not hear me: MUSIC AND WINE ARE OCCURRING AS WE SPEAK. I will be supremely dissatisfied if you two ignore my festival. Amorous activities can wait.”

They watched him leave as swiftly as he had come with Zeus’s cooked things. “Are you still hungry?”

“I think Dion took them so my only option is the festival’s dishes,” Ganymede said. Zeus chuckled while standing with him in his arms. Ganymede’s eyes widened at the thrill of sudden elevation in his stomach. He lowered him to his feet but brought Ganymede’s hand up to touch the pads of his fingers to Zeus’s lips.

“Have I done anything to calm your fears?”

Ganymede’s lips pressed together and then he nodded. He yanked Zeus forward with the warning, “Dion will scold us again if we’re not prompt.”

Sure enough, outside dark clouds were on the horizon. Some people were nailing shutters over their open windows before joining the exodus toward the amphitheater. Music reached their ears early, as if the coming storm was spurring people to enjoy the last few hours of the festival more than ever.

“Did you send the storm?” Ganymede asked as they navigated through the crowds. Zeus’s size made it rather easy, especially when he hoisted Ganymede up by his waist to sit atop his shoulders. Some onlookers japed at the sight, saying they were three eyes shy of being a cyclops.

“The crops are due for a sprinkling,” Zeus confirmed, his hands on Ganymede’s thighs to keep him steady.

Ganymede let his hands rest in the king’s hair while he observed his surroundings. “Is everyone…a little different?”

Zeus chuckled. “Many have only held wine in their bellies today.”

“Won’t they feel sick?”

“Oh yes,” he laughed some more.

“That doesn’t seem like the best way to end a festival,” Ganymede mused. He rose and lowered with the god’s shrug a moment before something bumped into them. Zeus and Ganymede peered down at the blatantly intoxicated person who had not merely ran into Zeus, but rebounded off. Hooded eyes stared up his length, and then the added torso of Ganymede, revealing ruddy orbs in his face. The man laughed giddily and uttered something like “Zeus’s bollocks, that’s a lot of man.”

His more sober companion ushered him away while the pair watched. Eventually Ganymede wondered, “Does it bother you when they say things like that?”

Zeus tilted his head so he could look up at him. “My siblings readily say worse. It is a rather humorous relief for humans to use my loins to vent their fascinations.”

Ganymede smiled and they continued through the hoards of people toward the amphitheater. Onstage Dionysus and Apollo were playing instruments together while various groups were in the seats, conversing and drinking and simply sharing happiness. Zeus put Ganymede down before they sat together on the stage. Athena, in her male guise, came to use Zeus’s thigh for a pillow as he recovered the bowl of food to share with Ganymede. Freshly steaming, he handed it over and watched Ganymede shovel a bite in his mouth with pita bread, pause for surprise, and then relax with the sublimity only food could give. Ganymede was too busy eating to notice the glare Zeus gave Dionysus when he tried to reach for the food himself. He peeked up when Dionysus uttered, “Stingy,” but Zeus was the picture of innocence.

A flutter of fabric caught his attention, and for a moment Ganymede thought nymphs had joined them onstage, but they were only women with colorful shawls. A couple of them set wooden bowls on the lip of the stage, and he knew they were coffers for prostitutes. Occasionally men would approach and the clatter of coins could be heard, but overall Ganymede thought they were quite good. Their movements were of course not as fluid as the naiads, but there was something visceral to their fragile limbs moving to the equally ephemeral music. Their movements were more desperate to live within the melodies.

Dionysus and Apollo stood, and the mood of the performance changed. It had been casual when they arrived, and it returned to being so; instead of a performance to be watched, more people were encouraged to mount the stage while others danced above their seats. More musicians arrived, prompting Dionysus to hand off his cithara and tug Ganymede to his feet. Before long the musicians harmonized with one another and the festivities were fully underway. Ganymede’s cheeks hurt from ready laughter and seeing Athena dance with them. She took his hand, twirling him while the sky darkened into something like evening despite being the middle of the day.

The first raindrops fell soon after, light and small in his hair while he accepted the ends of shawls in his hands while Dionysus and Athena were on his sides. They danced in the circle Dionysus had taught him what felt like long ago, but as the rain gradually fell more heavily the circles broke and individuals took the music within their bodies. Ganymede guffawed at Dionysus’s choice of writhing movements but also moved with him; dipping his hips and twisting in unison before Athena claimed him for moments of movement which were probably more civilized.

Others bumped him here and there, the stage overcrowded and inducing him to rake a hand through his hair. Soaked as it was, it remained where it was briefly before falling back over his face as he glanced down at the edge of the stage.

A darkly tanned arm crossed in front of his stomach, baring him from the ledge. Ganymede looked up into Zeus’s face as he pulled him gently. Ganymede smiled and reached up for him, but Zeus took his hands and put them down.

Only, he did not. Rather, he lowered Ganymede’s arms so they could revolve around one another in the dance. Looking downward, Ganymede followed his gaze to see how his feet moved, and replicated his choices. Zeus kept Ganymede’s hands in his, lacing their fingers to keep him steady as well as to remain close in the hoard of people. Zeus peeked to the side, and with a little…godly nudge, the crowd parted just enough for Zeus to sweep Ganymede across the stage, the two of them crossing their feet and stepping in unison to the music. Their height difference made regular dance uneasy, but Zeus planned around it so once the thought passed through Ganymede’s mind, it just as quickly vanished.

They turned, revolving around each other while Zeus pivoted them as necessary to maneuver around the rogue elbows or legs of dancers around them. Dionysus and Athena stopped them, opening their clasped hands to create a circle with the four of them before Apollo was yanked out of an intimate circle by Dionysus to join them. The way those bright eyes looked up at Zeus, Ganymede reckoned the number of times Apollo had seen Zeus dance were even less often than Athena.

Apollo began to clap a rhythm. Humans around them took it up, bringing their palms together to the beats of the music, which was playing faster. Like the rainfall the music grew heavy and swift around them, the clapping ricocheting along with it. Zeus resumed his hold on Ganymede for his safety, the rush pulling the gods apart until the music ended with a flourish. Cheers resounded as faces lifted for the rain. A new tune began, slower for them to catch their breath.

Ganymede was still laughing as he opened his arms up to Zeus. Strong arms curved around his waist as Zeus readily answered his pull. His warm lips were slick with rain when they met Ganymede’s, but his taste was sweet as nectar when they parted. Ganymede felt the burn of need, the wanting to explore that taste the same moment he felt himself pulled higher. His toes left the stage floor. Raindrops drummed on his eyelids. His mouth opened wider, bidden by an innate force wanting Zeus to claim his mouth…and vice versa.

Zeus met him, their tongues sliding together while their lips sealed. Ganymede’s eyebrows moved involuntarily as sensations writhed inside him, spiraling through his belly and rising with his need. One of Zeus’s arms lowered to support his pelvis as well as pull him close, encouraging him to grind anywhere he liked. The sodden raiment was heavy on his erection, not allowing him to move how he liked and he felt his voice leaving his throat unbidden. The sound was whining and eager and barely recognizable, and yet Zeus answered.

They were moving again, but neither elbows nor knees brushed Ganymede’s sides. They were leaving, flying as a haze so thick filled Ganymede’s mind that he thought he was being put to sleep until he finally landed in a familiar place and understood why. The arches of Zeus’s palace ceiling stood over their heads as Zeus laid them down on Ganymede’s own bed. Instead of feeling sick from the god’s speed he merely reeled at the sudden elevation, or the long lick up his throat.

Ganymede’s head fell back to be caught by a large palm, his eyes open to slits. There was no rain here, but clouds swirled calmly above and sometimes around them; wisps of vapor floating and curling over his skin in passing. Zeus’s other hand found his cock, the flat of his palm rubbing through the fabric and making Ganymede squirm from discomfort.

“Off,” he huffed. “Get them off…”

Zeus obeyed with relish. Peeling the soaked fabric from his skin, Zeus bestowed hot kisses to his belly, a hipbone, with his tongue peeking through his lips to taste Ganymede’s flesh. Ganymede’s head thrashed gently when the mouth sucked hard on his inner thighs. He wanted that same suction elsewhere, but Zeus only continued downward, all the way to his feet to worship the arch of his foot, the pads of muscle that held him up.

Ganymede’s fingers reached out for him, wiggling and begging him back up. “Say it, Gany,” the king countered.

His eyes opened with confusion. Zeus supplied, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want…you,” he voiced.

Soft lips pressed to the bulb of his ankle. “Then call for me.”

Ganymede blinked hard when the king’s grip moved to his calf and he kissed the vein that ran along his anklebone. Why in the world were his legs and feet so sensitive? “My king—”

“Name me, Ganymede,” he commanded softly. “Say my name, sweet Gany.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the place that was connected by a delicate thread to his heart, Ganymede knew the king was begging. Lungs lost for air, he swallowed thickly. _“Zeus…”_ he breathed. Heavy eyelashes lifted off of silver eyes. “Please…my king. My…Zeus. I need…everywhere—”

Suddenly Zeus was over him, hovering lengthwise and eye level so that his hand clenched the last of Ganymede’s raiment. When he pulled, the threads disintegrated underneath him so the rest of the fabrics came away with ease. Ganymede’s arms and legs lifted to pull his lover down to him, but some mundane logic urged him to yank the king’s shirt over his head. The himation on his shoulder got in the way, but Zeus merely shoved it down by his hips and kicked everything else away.

He settled over Ganymede’s bare skin while his arms found the arch of his lower spine and scooped his arms underneath Ganymede’s body. Ganymede’s arms went around Zeus’s shoulders, exploring the blades and spine and just the expanse of flesh that rippled with every movement of his arms and slide of his hips.

“Aahh!” Ganymede might have screamed if his voice had more power, but his lungs were not his own. Zeus only released them to allow Ganymede air and to return his attention to the neck arching for his mouth to reach. Ganymede purred more _ahhs_ and sounds he did not care to check, especially when they were pulled from him by Zeus nibbling on his neck and ear. Sumptuous tingles sparked along his pinna the same moment Zeus decided to grind his cock against Ganymede’s, and he saw stars.

His knees jerked, his heels finding the mounds of muscle of Zeus’s derriere. He tried to spur him to move more but a deep, husky rumble filled his thoughts. “Is this all you want?”

“No!” he whined, just as huskily as if he had been screaming.

“Tell me.”

He barely halted the outright whine in his throat and instead voiced, “You said…inside me. I want you there. Ah!”

Fingers plunged into him. Ganymede’s pelvis rocked immediately with the rolling thrust and pulls of Zeus’s fingers and the merciless press of his thumb underneath his ball sack. Initially Ganymede held onto his shoulders, but slowly he lifted his arms above his head, finding a pillow or even just the pallet beneath him to hold onto while his hips continued to move.

The speed never changed, and after a time, his brows furrowed. He needed more and once again his knees jerked, silently trying to find a way to tell Zeus what he wanted. He opened his eyes, though, and found silver storms staring back at him, watching him as if he was where the sea and sky kissed to form the horizon.

Ganymede was already flushed, but his cheeks and throat bloomed rosily as he tried to hold his gaze before his eyes sank to the rigid member glistening with moisture. Zeus made a sound when Ganymede reached for it, his hand closing over the head. His thumb moved that moisture around while his eyes swallowed the sight of Zeus’s closed eyelids, his jaw slackening…and then those eyes blew wide when Ganymede pulled him to his entrance.

“You need…to be here…yes?”

 _“Yes!”_ Zeus grated. His open hand landed carefully on Ganymede’s cock and balls, the base of his palm over the hole before Ganymede’s head was thrown back. His mouth opened for sounds but none came out. He felt himself opening, stretching painlessly from the god’s power. He felt the dome of a cock head close the opening and prod it open a little further—

Much further. Ganymede’s nails raked over Zeus’s chest but not from agony. The scalding drag of his phallus through the ring of muscle and then along his interior walls was anything but excruciating. The overall sensation was invasive and filling in the best of ways; exciting and awakening every nerve in Ganymede’s body. The pads of his toes tingled as he slid his foot over the fine hair on Zeus’s calves. Air slithered under his back when Zeus lifted his lower half for a better angle.

And when he landed on that intimate spot and thrust past it so more of his length could press across it, a spasm overtook Ganymede and he was climaxing when Zeus’s thighs made contact with his ass. His orgasm rolled through him again and again until Zeus’s kisses on his temple and cheek steadied him. He realized the god’s breathing was as labored as his own, and they had barely begun.

Ganymede felt his erection begin to lessen—and then swell back to full hardness when Zeus gripped him. His body went rigid, over sensitive and obeying the commands demanding of him. His nails bit into Zeus’s sides as he looked questioningly up at Zeus. _“I warned you,”_ he growled, in such a way that Ganymede thought he would not say anything more. _“I will take everything I can from you.”_

And then he rocked his pelvis, and Ganymede’s jaw fell open. The blood in his legs felt thick and gooey, yet it rushed to the ends of his toes and back. At first Zeus only rocked against him, barely pulling out and therefore going nowhere within, but as Ganymede grew accustomed to his girth, Zeus pulled out more and more. His speed slowly climbed. His hips loosened to gyrate with each thrust. It was all Ganymede could do to keep in time with him and breathe.

Zeus would tilt his chin up for ravenous kisses now and again, until he finally tangled his hand in Ganymede’s hair to hold his head craned upward for him to easily torment Ganymede’s mouth or throat, wherever he chose while he endlessly drove into him.

“Zeus! I…” he cried. “I need it! It’s…coming.”

“Come for me, Gany. My Gany,” he rumbled, licking the side of his mouth, tracing his lips. “Let me feel you come again.”

“It’s…hahh…Ha! Ah!”

Ganymede grimaced until he crossed his ankles behind Zeus’s ass, riding out the thrusts and the approaching peak. He thought he could not feel more than this moment: the explosions behind his eyes and the rapturous feeling of tongue and kisses on his neck and collarbone.

But then Zeus uncrossed his legs with hardly a reach behind him. Ganymede’s eyes widened when he was turned over onto his stomach. “What—?”

 _“Like this,”_ Zeus directed, making several changes. He pulled Ganymede onto his knees and lifted his ankles so they overlapped Zeus’s behind him. Curling an arm around his torso, he angled Ganymede’s head upward so his hips dropped. “Put your weight more on your knees, so here…I can hold you here.”

Ganymede’s eyelashes fluttered as Zeus buried his jaw in the crook of his neck, putting them cheek to cheek. One of his hands laced with Ganymede’s to rest on his chest, while the other closed around his still erect penis. Zeus’s own filled him once more, causing his knees to go weak and for his pelvis to drop a little more over him. But the softness of Zeus’s thighs gently pounding into his ass, curve meeting curve, had Ganymede reaching for any part of his king he could reach. His free hand settled on the king’s nape, gripping his hair while he listened to his own panting, the breath pushed out of him with each thrust. He felt the soft scrape of Zeus’s fingers fondling his scrotum while he pumped his cock.

It was not long before Ganymede felt the overwhelming tingle of an orgasm approaching. His head wanted to thrash but instead he turned it so he could bite Zeus’s own ear, worrying it between his teeth.

“Aah!” Zeus cried, but it was guttural and savage in his baritone. Ganymede’s brows jerked upward when he felt the sudden melting heat of climax inside of him, and no sooner was his own being wrung out of him by Zeus’s thrusts and pump of his hand.

When Ganymede finished with a final shudder, he gasped breathlessly, “I thought…you needed to see me.”

Zeus exhaled raggedly and said, “But I can.”

Puzzled, Ganymede met his glossy eyes and followed their direction toward the wall, which was hammered copper like so much else in Zeus’s quarters. In the ripples of the smoothly hammered surface he could make out the lines of his shoulders, the shadows of Zeus’s hair and the plumpness of his own lips. And the silliness of it made him giggle profusely.

He met Zeus’s smile and twisted so he could fall on his back, facing the god himself. His mouth relaxed as his arms lifted, intending to prepare for a kiss, but Zeus ducked down to close his lips around a nipple. The swirling tingles made Ganymede beat the base of his palm against Zeus’s shoulder. “I haven’t your stamina.”

“Hmm,” he growled. It was all Ganymede received while the king seemed intent on drawing every possible sound he could from him.

“I’m—hm!—going to faint if you keep this up.” He gripped Zeus’s head and yanked him up. “There isn’t any point if I can’t endure! We have time, don't we?”

And then Zeus laughed so giddily his visage was truly ageless. “Aye, we have time, philtatos. In the morning, then?”

Ganymede met his sentiment with a smile despite the ache behind his eyes. He pulled him in for that wet and tired kiss he wanted. “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...for as long as we have.”

Zeus followed his pull and settled on Ganymede’s chest, his arms around his torso. As Ganymede began to fade from consciousness, the last fingers gripping the world giving way, he heard and felt Zeus sigh as if he had been holding his breath for years.

It was not until he woke habitually at dawn that he realized, maybe in his own way, Zeus had been doing exactly that. Because holding tightly to his chest as if he had never moved, the king of gods slept.

Ganymede smiled like a fool and squeezed him tight, burying his face in that mess of hair before falling back into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to BTS's "Blood Sweat & Tears," which dropped today with the Wings album and what I have been listening to while editing this haha

**Author's Note:**

> You can visit me on [Tumblr](http://pondermoniums.tumblr.com/) or I'm more active on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Pondermoniums)


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